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grumpypixistix · 5 months

Text

The lab assistant

Scientist!Miguel O’Hara x Shy!Reader

Warnings- Face sitting, slight corruption kink, slightly perverted!Miguel (if you squint), co-workers being dickheads, semi-public sex (let me know if I missed anything! )

MINORS DNI 18+

You had been working at Alchemax for a few months now. A few of your colleagues were generous enough to introduce you to the workplace and the other workers, but there was one person you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

Miguel O’Hara.

When you first introduced yourself to him, he had already taken a liking to you. Something about how shy yet sweet you were made his pulse quicken and his cheeks burn. The way you smiled at him as you tried to introduce yourself, nervous about your first day at Alchemax. But you quickly felt at home when Miguel began to bond with you by taking over your “tour” of the place, making great conversation. Soon enough, your shell had cracked and you started talking about your personal interests, how you got hired, etc.

About a week after that day, he went home and couldn’t stop thinking about you for some reason. He didn’t know what to make of it, thinking it wasn’t too serious.

But then you started appearing in his dreams.

Miguel would dream about leaving marks everywhere on your body to claim you as his, fucking every ounce of innocence out of you.

And when he would wake up in a cold sweat, his cock was nearly on the verge of exploding, precum dripping everywhere. He felt guilty about it afterwards, it was just wrong for him to think about his colleague like that.

But you plagued his mind consistently. The dreams slowly turned into daily thoughts that he finally caved into, fisting his cock at least four times a day to the thought of your body. But you had no clue what he was doing after he got off of work. You just assumed that he only saw you as a co-worker and nothing else, maybe even a good friend.

But God, were you so far off from the truth.

As you entered the building for another shift of the week, your boss had approached you with some new information.

“I’m really sorry this is a last minute notice, but I need you to stay a little later. I tried to get some other people to stay instead, but all of them couldn’t do it… but on the bright side, Miguel volunteered to stay, so you won’t be completely alone.”

Great, just what you needed. A longer shift after your horrible week.

Even though some of your colleagues were nice to you, there was a group that wasn’t as generous as them. Some of them claimed that you were too clumsy or stupid to be an assistant, others claimed you were like a lost dog or a prude. Whatever they said, you tried not to pay attention to it too much. But there were days where it would get to you, and this week happened to have a bunch of those days.

You just nodded at your boss and shot him the best smile you could muster up.

“Alright then, that shouldn’t be a problem, sir” You said in a friendly tone.

“At least Miguel will be here with me… maybe I can talk to him, get my stress out” You thought to yourself as you walked off to start your shift.

When you walked into the lab and took your coat off of the hanger, you could hear some voices from the other side of the room.

“Oh great, look who’s here.”

“God, I don’t even know why she’s still here. She should’ve been fired months ago, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing.”

“I’m surprised Miguel even hangs out with her, she’s such a prude.”

“Hell, you should’ve seen the look on her face yesterday. She practically bursted into tears when we called her useless.”

The other comments stung a little, but what got you the most was the part about Miguel. Sure, you had developed a small crush on him, but that had nothing to do with your guy’s friendship. The fact that the other colleagues had judged your bond just to get a laugh hurt you more than you felt it should’ve.

God forbid if they ever found out about your feelings for Miguel… you couldn’t help but become paranoid over the idea.

As you tried to ignore the group across the room and focus on your tasks, it seemed that one of them had read your mind and called you over.

Shit.

“Hey, newbie! Come over here real quick, we gotta ask you somethin“ One of your colleagues called out.

Your heart pounded hard inside your chest, quietly gulping before walking over to the group with a small sigh.

“What do you need?” You asked gently, silently praying it was something work-related and not just making fun of you again.

Some of the others chuckled and chattered a little bit before falling quiet.

“Sooo, you’re friends with Miguel, right?” The female colleague from before asked.

Your palms began to grow sweaty as sirens went off in your mind, biting your cheek before answering.

“Yeah, why?” You raised your brow at your co-worker.

Your co-worker slowly smiled. Oh no.

“Well, we were just thinking… with the way you act around him and all… you definitely have a thing for him, don’t you?”

Your whole chest sunk to your stomach, wishing this was just some horrible dream and that you would wake up soon. Trying to play it off, your eyes widened at the question and you shook your head vigorously.

“What?? No, he’s just my friend-“

“That wasn’t my question. I asked if you have a thing for him” She cuts off coldly.

Some of the others snickered quietly, making your throat close up as you tried to hold your emotions back. Your face contorted into confusion at the strange question, the others taking notice of it.

“Oh my god, she’s clueless” One of the colleagues muttered with a small chuckle.

Your co-worker lets out a small laugh as she noticed your face, clicking her tongue and shaking her head.

“Here, let me dumb it down for you: do you ever fantasize about having sex with Miguel?”

Your whole face flushed bright red as it clicked into your head, slowly shaking your head.

“N- No… that’s… that’s wrong” You stuttered, looking at your co-worker.

She stares at you with a raised brow, not believing you at all.

“Okay, sure… but you still like him, right? Being a prude and all, surely you at least have a crush on him.”

“Please, don’t call me that-“

“Or what? Huh? You gonna run off to your little boyfriend and cry in his arms? I’m sure he’ll baby you, he does every time he sees you” She hisses.

The feeling in your throat grew even stronger, your eyes slowly beginning to water. But you didn’t want to prove her theory, so you just stood there silently, not knowing what else to say. As the silence grew more, some of the colleagues just laughed.

“Wow… you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

“Who’s stupid?” A voice emerges from the entrance of the room, making everyone fall silent.

It was Miguel, standing with his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. The group of colleagues weren’t laughing or smiling anymore- instead, they actually looked nervous. The female coworker looked over at you for a quick moment before flashing a smile at Miguel.

“Oh, nothing! It was just something we were talking about from yesterday. Right, hon?” The co-worker said in an overly sweet tone, forcing herself to smile at you.

You froze, not wanting anymore conflict with the group, so you just went along with it. You quietly nodded your head and looked over at Miguel, giving your best smile.

“Mhm, it was just stuff from yesterday” You mustered up as your voice shook a little.

Miguel didn’t buy it at all, seeing how your eyes glistened, tears threatening to leave them at any second. He shot your co-worker a glare before looking back at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Ah, alright then… do you have the paperwork from last week? I just wanna make sure everything is right” Miguel spoke to you, his face softening a little.

You quickly nodded and walked away from the group to your clipboard that was in one of the desk drawers, skimming through the pile of papers to look for the documents. The group just watched as you eventually found the papers Miguel was referring to, handing them to him. He took out his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on, reading the sheet of paper. After a few moments of silence, Miguel took off his glasses and looked over at you, handing the paper back.

“This is perfect. Thank you, sweetheart. I don’t think I’ve ever seen paperwork better than this and I’ve worked here longer than anyone else has” Miguel praised, a gentle smile formed on his lips.

“Thank you, Miguel. That means a lot to me” You hummed in appreciation, returning the smile.

The praise alone made you forget about the whole situation from earlier, but the smile comforted you even more. Your cheeks burned up as you felt your whole body tingle, a small smile creeping up your lips. The feeling Miguel made you have was insatiable, you just couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted more of him, to have his lips on yours…

You almost forgot that there were other people in the room. Almost.

The sound of low muttering made your head turn towards the group, the co-worker giving you a dirty look before the group parted separate ways. You set the paper on the table and Miguel leans down to whisper in your ear.

“We’ll talk about this later.”

Your head spun when you felt his warm breath tickle your skin, almost not realizing what he just said. When you finally processed it, you looked at Miguel and nodded a little. For once, you were actually kind of glad your boss made you work later.

After hours of working and following Miguel around for assistance (as he asked for your presence), it was time for the others to go home. Usually, you would be getting off at this time, but since you had to stay later, that meant you would have to pick up dinner on your way back home. You didn’t really mind since it would save you time and energy to make food at home.

Plus you didn’t mind since it meant you could spend more time with Miguel.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t help but notice something was a little off with him. You assumed it was because of what happened earlier, because he seemed a little more tense than normal. But after everyone had left, he looked over at you, glad that the two of you were finally alone. You were finishing out today’s paperwork, slouching over the desk as you tried to fight off your tiredness. Miguel walked over to you and gently took the pen out of your hand, turning your chair around to face him.

“Everyone left, it’s just us. Now… about what happened earlier…” Miguel started, bending down to your height, “Tell me. What exactly did they say to you?”

Your face burned up a little as his face was inches away from yours, struggling to find your words. He just stared at you, waiting for an answer. But after a few moments of silence, his face softened and he let out a small breath, resting his large hand on your thigh.

“I won’t say a word to anyone, I promise. I just want to know what’s wrong… when I got here, you were on the verge of tears” Miguel spoke softly.

The feeling of his hand on your thigh made your chest flutter and your stomach turn, trying to keep your composure as much as you could. He was only just trying to comfort you… right?

“They… they were asking me questions…” You began, still debating whether or not you should leave out a few details.

Miguel hummed a little as he listened to you, his other hand now on your other thigh as he gently caressed your skin. Your stomach felt fuzzy and warm, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Questions about what? C’mon hermosa, you can tell me” He coos, tucking a small strand of hair out of your face.

You swallowed hard and bit your lip hard before answering hesitantly.

“They were… questions a- about you.”

Miguel stopped and looked at you, gently grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at him.

“What did they ask about me?”

You stared up at him for a few moments and finally spoke again.

“They… they were asking if… I liked you” You whispered quietly.

That caught Miguel off-guard.

His eyes widened at you just the slightest, analyzing your face to see if you were messing with him. Once he noticed your flushed cheeks and nervous look, he knew you weren’t joking. After a moment of tense silence, Miguel licked his lips and started talking.

“…Do you?” Miguel asked lowly, looking down at your lips and up at your eyes.

His question had you in a slight panic, weighing out the odds. If you told him how you felt, it would either change your entire friendship or you would be stuck working alone for the rest of your time at Alchemax. Either one of those options sounded horrible, but if you didn’t tell him now, you were certain the group from earlier would do it eventually. Your heart raced so quick, Miguel swore he could hear it clearly. A shaky sigh left your lips and you nodded at him.

“Yeah… I do” You mumbled, scared that he would react negatively.

But instead, Miguel just chuckled softly and smiled at you, his hand cupping your face and his thumb dragging down your bottom lip.

“That’s good to know… because I’ve also liked you for quite some time now” Miguel responded, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Your eyes widened at his response, a look of hope on your face as you slowly smiled.

“Really?” You squeaked.

Miguel chuckled again and nodded at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips.

“Of course I do… how could I not?” He whispered, his face slowly inching closer to yours.

Your face flushed all the way to your ears, finding yourself drifting towards him. Closer, closer and closer until you finally feel his warm lips on yours. It felt like hundreds of fireworks were exploding in your chest, slowly wrapping your arms around him and holding Miguel close. You were almost afraid to let go, and he seemed to notice this. Miguel gently moved his hands down to your waist, pulling you up out of the chair and into his arms. The more you kissed him, the harder it became for Miguel to keep his composure. He wanted to take things slow with you, not wanting to scare you away. But God, was it a challenge for him to just keep his hands on your hips.

After a little bit, Miguel finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, already panting softly. He looked at you and let out a groan that awoken something inside you.

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Miguel huffed quietly, his thumbs barely peeking up the hem of your shirt and rubbing the bare skin of your stomach.

You just stared up at him, your mind still foggy from the kiss you two had shared moments ago. You shook your head with a quiet “No…”

Miguel sighed and looked down at your chest, his cock twitching inside his pants. He didn’t even bother hiding his erection anymore, moving your hips against his to show you the effect you had on him. You let out a gasp at the strange feeling, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your whole body felt hot now.

“I can’t help it… you’re just so fucking sweet… you haunt me in my dreams, I swear to god. Every night when I go to bed, all I can dream about is you and that fucking body of yours… all just for me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, not expecting him to say those kind of things to you. Normally, you’d be freaked out or even scared… but something about the way Miguel looked at you made you feel different. You weren’t sure if it was from the kiss earlier or your feelings for him in general, but you felt… ready in a sense. When Miguel saw your eyes widen at his words, his face dropped as he suddenly became worried.

“…Was that too much?” Miguel whispered gently, his brows furrowed together.

You slowly shook your head and placed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“No… I- If anything, I… I sometimes have dreams about you, too…” You admitted with a quiet tone, looking away.

Miguel nearly went off the rails when you told him that, his pants feeling tighter around his dick. He moved you closer to him once more, moving your hair to the side.

“Mierda… Tell me about your dreams…” Miguel mumbled against you, pressing slow kisses to your cheek and down your neck.

Your thighs pressed together as a wet patch formed in your panties, your stomach flipping as you felt his lips against your skin. A shaky breath left your mouth, nearly moaning from how good it felt to have Miguel treat you this way. It was definitely wrong, but it felt so right. If anyone else had stayed with you two during the late shift and caught you like this, you’d be fired on the spot.

But nobody else was here. Just the two of you.

“S- sometimes I dream about you k- kissing me like this… and even…” Your voice faltered as you quickly grew shy again, biting down on your lip.

Miguel kissed and nipped at your neck, leaving little marks on your skin.

“Go on, Cariño…”

You swallowed before speaking again, letting a soft moan slip out.

“Even… touching me…”

Miguel moaned at that, causing your head to spin even more. You felt so hot that you swore you were going to pass out, but luckily you didn’t. He moved up to place a firm kiss on your lips, pulling away to look at you.

“Have I done anything more than just touching you in your dreams?” Miguel muttered lowly, his lips wet and raw.

You thought for a second before slowly shaking your head with a small breath.

“I always woke up before… before I could find out…” You answered Miguel.

Miguel frowned at that, looking at the marks on your neck before making direct eye contact with you. He sighed and shook his head, clicking his tongue.

“Well… do you wanna know what I’d do to you in my dreams?”

You nodded at him, genuinely curious as to what he dreamed about when you weren’t there with him. His forehead pressed against yours as his lips were centimeters away from your lips, his hands trailing from your waist down to your ass.

“In my dreams… I’d have you sit on my face and I’d make you cum over and over again until your legs give out..”

The image Miguel just gave you nearly made you collapse. You felt weak to your knees, a gentle whine escaping your lips. Miguel squeezed your thighs and kissed you once more, his hands moving up to the hem of your shirt. He parted from you to look at your face.

“Can I?” Miguel asked, wanting to make sure you were okay with this before he went any farther.

You looked at him for a few moments before making a decision, whispering out a small “Yes” to him. He took that as his green light and gently took your coat off first before moving to your shirt. He rolled the material up your body and over your head, helping you take your shirt off. Once you were topless in front of him, Miguel’s eyes scanned your chest. He muttered something quietly in Spanish before letting out a breathy sigh.

“Have I ever told you just how beautiful you are?” He coos softly.

Your face burned up as you felt vulnerable in front of him, but when Miguel spoke, you slowly started to become more comfortable. A bashful expression appeared on your face as you just shook your head.

“Not entirely…”

Miguel hummed gently as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, reaching towards your back to unclip your bra.

“Well… I think you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met… every time I see you, it’s always hard for me to look away. Shit, baby, it’s even hard for me to look away in my dreams. I wouldn’t give it up for any other view… you’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart” Miguel spoke in between kisses to your face and lips while gently kneading your exposed breasts.

You couldn’t help but moan at his words mixed with his touch, kissing him back each time he placed a kiss onto your soft lips. Miguel couldn’t get enough of the sweet sounds you made, craving even more from you. His hands moved down to unbutton your pants, taking off every last piece of clothing on your body before leaving you completely naked in front of him. Miguel’s breath hitched as he looked at your body.

It was even better than he imagined in his dreams.

Miguel placed small kisses down your neck and collarbone until he made it to your breasts, gently kissing and sucking one while his hand toyed with the other. The sensation made you moan a little louder, biting down on your lip to contain yourself. Miguel seemed to take notice of this and removed his mouth from your nipple.

“You don’t have to be quiet, muñeca… it’s just us. I wanna hear your pretty moans.. god, I’ve been dreaming about this for so long…”

As soon as he said that, his hands gripped your hips and he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. Suddenly, he placed you on top of him as he laid down on the large table in the room. You could feel the tent in his pants right against your wet pussy, a low whine leaving your lips which caused Miguel to groan softly.

“Want you to sit on my face, querida… please…” Miguel begged softly, his hands still on your hips.

You let out a whimper at his request, reluctantly moving so your hips were directly above his face. You were hovering over him, not knowing what else to do. Miguel let out a quiet sigh, not wanting to wait any longer. He wanted to taste you… he had to taste you.

“You’re hovering, sweetheart. Lower your hips for me, ‘kay?” Miguel instructed, looking up at you from between your legs.

You looked down at him, slightly embarrassed from the position you were in. Regardless of how shy you became, you obeyed Miguel anyways, slowly lowering your hips a little.

“Is this g-“ Before you could even get your question out, Miguel’s mouth immediately attached to your clit.

You let out a loud gasp and moaned, Miguel’s tongue exploring your folds and licking up your juices. He let out a low growl that sent vibrations through your body, making you squirm and cry out.

“Joder, nena, sabes tan dulce… todo para mi~” Miguel moaned, his head moving up more to lick and suck on your clit again.

You whimpered as he sucked on your clit again, afraid that you would crush him if you moved your hips any lower. Miguel’s hands moved up to your ass and groped it tightly, his tongue poking your hole and sliding inside of you. The warm and wet feeling made your hands slam down on the table, trying not to drop your hips directly onto his face. Small pants left your mouth as his tongue fucked your hole and his nose brushed up against your sensitive clit, moaning as you kept your eyes shut tightly.

That’s when you felt Miguel’s hands grip your hips and his tongue slips out of your pussy, making you whine in response. You gasp as he pulls your hips down with such force, your eyes widening as you look down at him.

“Ay, Cariño, what did I tell you ‘bout the hovering? Stop hovering and sit on my face” Miguel scolded, spanking your ass as he goes back to licking and sucking your poor abused clit.

You cried out as you felt a new wave of pleasure form inside you, sobbing as he hit all of your spots with his mouth.

“Miguel~! Mig-“ You gasped, pulling his hair with one hand as the other stayed on the table for support.

But Miguel could care less if you suffocated him. Hell, he wanted you to. The sound of his name coming from your lips nearly made him cum in his pants right then and there. Every pretty noise that came out of your mouth was better than his dreams alone, not wanting you to stop. Miguel kissed and teased your clit more, savoring your taste as much as possible. His breath grew heavier and heavier as sweat trickled down his temples, burying his face in your pussy.

Miguel’s mouth left your clit with a small ‘pop’ as he re-entered his tongue inside your soaked hole, making you rut your hips against his face. The way his nose bumped your clit and his warm tongue stuffed inside you made your eyes roll back, your legs twitching already.

“God, don’t stop~ please don’t stop, Miggy~ feels s’good~” You begged pathetically, your shy demeanor now leaving your body.

Miguel moaned against you and spanked your ass hard once more, his fingers digging into your thighs. His own hips twitched against nothing as he listened to your pleads and moans, fucking you with his tongue relentlessly. With the way you begged so nicely for him to keep going, Miguel swore he could feel his precum seeping through his boxers and pants. How could he refuse you?

“Miguel-! I- I think I’m-“ You tried to warn him that you were close, your legs nearly giving out on you.

If it weren’t for Miguel’s large hands holding your hips up, you definitely would’ve collapsed on his face. But you were so desperate to cum, continuing to grind on his face as he licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He caught his breath and looked up at you for a moment, his eyes dark and full of arousal.

“Go ahead, princesa… cum for me” Miguel moaned, going back to sucking your clit.

With just those words alone, the coil inside your stomach broke. You cried out loudly as you came, chanting his name over and over again. Your legs shook and you nearly collapsed onto him, Miguel catching you just in time. He licked up every drop of your release, making sure to not let it go to waste. You whimpered as he continued to lick your sensitive pussy, becoming overstimulated from his tongue. Your hands pressed down onto the table to hold yourself up, catching your breath as you carefully crawled off of his face.

As you sat down on the table next to Miguel, he sat up straight and faced you, panting heavily. Your eyes widened as you saw his chin was soaked from your juices, a dark blush forming across your cheeks. Miguel noticed your face as he finally caught his breath, a small laugh leaving his lips.

“How do you feel?” Miguel asked, licking his lips and wiping his chin off with his coat sleeve.

A soft breath left your mouth as you looked at him, a sheepish smile forming on your face, “I feel… I feel like that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced..”

Miguel chuckled and leaned over to you, placing a tender kiss to your lips. You melted against him and returned the kiss, slowly pulling away to look at him.

“I’m glad I could make you feel like that… say, uh… our shift actually ended like… 10 minutes ago” Miguel spoke as he checked his watch.

Your eyes widened as you looked around for your discarded clothes, Miguel quickly grabbing them before you could get off of the table.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I got it. Just sit for a little bit, catch your breath” He mumbled, putting your clothes back on for you.

Your chest fluttered as he did so, smiling at him in a loving way. Miguel noticed this and chuckled as he helped you put your panties back on.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… I was just wondering.. do you wanna stay the night at my place?” You offered, moving your hips a little as Miguel clothed you.

Miguel grinned widely at the offer, placing a peck to your forehead and nodding.

“Of course, I’d like that… I’ll buy dinner for us on the way there. My treat for this” Miguel hummed, putting your shirt on and placing soft kisses to your knuckles.

Your smile widened as he said that, pulling him in for a kiss. Miguel wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back, his forehead pressed against yours as you two pulled away. He helped you off of the table and the both of you made your way out of the building, holding your hand and rubbing his thumb across your skin.

“Oh, by the way… I heard everything that happened with your co-workers. I was listening the whole time” Miguel admitted, looking over at you.

Your head whipped over to him, a surprised expression on your face. “You were-??”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I actually got promoted as a manager a few weeks ago, so…”

Your eyes widened as a small gasp left your lips. “Wait, so that means-“

“That means you won’t be having to deal with them for much longer. I know those assholes have been messing with you since you got here… plus, everything they said about you is wrong. You’re the best worker this place has to offer and those dickheads have been here longer than you have” Miguel responded to you, placing a kiss to your temple.

A grin formed on your lips as joy filled your chest, squeezing Miguel’s hand.

“Thank you, Miguel… that means everything to me.”

“Of course. I gotta make sure my girl is okay.”

You let out a laugh as he said that, placing a soft kiss on his cheek as you walked with him down the street.

“So, is that your way of saying I’m your girlfriend now?” You chuckled.

“Only if you want to be” Miguel answered with a smirk.

You gently smacked his shoulder with your other hand and scoffed playfully, earning a laugh from him.

“Of course I do, Miguel.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

#atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #miguel x reader #atsv #miguel smut #miguel o’hara x reader #Miguel O’Hara #miguel x you #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara smut

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upsidedownwithsteve · 5 months

Text

[4.5K] Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

A/N: sorry, no advent blurb today as we’re v tired and v sick and writing doesn’t sound fun. but please have an old fic that was once on the masterlist

“This is a bad idea,” you whispered, shy, nervous, wanting to curl into yourself.

Steve stayed still behind you, your back to his chest, his legs bent and framing your own. His hand stroked over your knee, a safe distance, one that didn’t add too much pressure to the situation. The boy pressed a kiss to your cheek, nose nudging your temple. “We can stop, if you want.” His voice was quiet and filled with soft sincerity. “It’s okay.”

But you’d asked for this, face flushed, squirming on Steve’s bed sheets ‘cause how on earth did you go from watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High to talking about sex to telling your best friend you’d never had an orgasm?

“What?” He’d asked, face soft with shock. “What about those six months you dated that guy, whatshisface? Liam?”

“Lewis,” you’d corrected, fingers pulling uncomfortably at the blanket Steve kept at the end of his bed for you. “And no, he just couldn’t get me there, I guess. Maybe it was me. It’s gotta be me, I can’t even make it happen myself.”

Steve had paused at that, looking at you with parted lips and soft eyes ‘cause you looked so sad, so frustrated, defeat taking over from the embarrassment you’d felt in admitting such a thing.

“It’s not you,” he’d said, determined. “He should’ve taken his time with you or— or, found out what you liked.”

You huffed out a laugh at that, humourless and tired. You shrugged, hands falling into your lap. “How’s that fair when I don’t even know what I like myself?”

You don’t know what happened after that. Just that the movie was paused and the evening outside turned to night, Steve’s blue room turning navy in the shadows, the dull glow of his bedside lamp making your bare legs turn apricot and rosy in the light. His hand looked so big against your knee, like he could swallow you whole.

You asked him. Voice quiet, words making the boy’s cheeks turn pink. Asked him to help, to show you, to tell you what you were doing wrong which sounded so ridiculous, because Jesus Christ, it was your body, for fuck sake.

You sucked in a deep breath. “No, it’s fine. I’m just— being stupid. We can keep going.”

You felt Steve relax a little behind you, his body sinking into the pile of pillows at his headboard, your body falling into his in turn. His thumb drew circles on the side of your knee, a touch you’d felt before: during a horror movie in the dark of the cinema, in the front seat of his car when you cried about a boy who wasn’t him, when he’d argued with his dad and you piled yourself into his lap for comfort.

“Are you sure?” Steve whispered and his voice was right by your ear, lips almost touching the shell of it. It made you shiver, spine tingling. “And you’re not stupid. This, the way you feel. It’s not stupid, okay?”

You realised he was waiting for you to answer him, so you nodded, chest tight at his earnest words, always trying to make you feel better. He’d once told you when you were both only thirteen, that that was his job and he’d proven it true ever since.

“Yeah, m’sure.” You let your head rest against his, cheek to his chin, day old stubble rough against your skin. “Thanks, Steve.”

A silence swept over you both, not exactly uncomfortable but not an easy one either, not like it usually was. ‘Cause your skirt was hitched up high, the hem of it falling towards the tops of your thighs when you’d bent your knees and sat between Steve’s legs. He’d patted the space there and your body had burned, but you’d obeyed all the same. His thumb was still rubbing circles and your hands lay awkwardly in your lap until finally, finally, Steve took them in his own and placed them flat over your thighs, his bigger ones covering your fingers.

“So you’ve never, ever—?”

“No,” you whispered it back, like a dirty secret. Something to be ashamed about. “Can't even manage it myself… it’s— fuck, I don’t know.” You choked off your own words, heated embarrassment creeping up the back of your neck.

Steve squeezed your hands, gentle, soothing. “S’okay. Do you, uh, do you try? A lot?”

He sounded nervous too and suddenly you were thankful for this position, eyes hidden from each other, knowing his cheeks would be flushed, too pretty to look at. You sucked in a breath and nodded. “Sometimes, yeah. I guess. It’s just— I either get interrupted or it doesn’t feel right and then the times when it does, I just can’t… can’t. You know.”

“Finish?” Steve supplied helpfully.

You nodded again.

“Okay, uh, why don’t you— do you wanna, try? Show me?” You heard him swallow audibly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat and you felt his jaw tense against your temple, where you were leaning against him.

You stiffened, and Steve felt that too, so he tangled his fingers between your own and used his thumb and yours to skim up and down your legs. You wondered if he noticed how warm you were, if he realised you were running so much hotter than before.

“It’s just me,” he whispered to you, head ducked tucked down so he words fell into the crook of your neck. He sounded so soft, familiar, like the sixteen year old who’d picked you up from your shitty first date and told you that the next boy that hurt you would have to deal with him. “Do you trust me?”

You licked your bottom lip, mouth dry but you made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I trust you.” You felt his smile, felt the affection ripple through him and back into you, ‘cause you really, really did. More than anyone, you thought.

“We can stop whenever you want, alright?” Steve said and you bobbed your head, suddenly feeling clumsy, fingers too small between his own, legs splayed out like a broken down China doll. You dug your toes into the mattress and breathed out. “Show me.” Steve whispered again. “Show me what you do.”

It took a second, maybe five, for your heart to stop rattling against your chest, for your bones to stop vibrating. But you took one hand from Steve’s and pressed it between your thighs, hidden under your skirt. Your underwear was still very much on and you were unsure how to go about that, so you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to find your clit the best you could under the cotton, shifting your fingers over the fabric.

Then Steve tsked, a soft sound that didn’t come across as reprimanding as it should’ve, but between that and his hand catching yours again, you stopped, unsure.

“You normally just dive right in like that?” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb over your knuckle. “Christ, you gotta be nicer to yourself, babe, you need to relax more.”

“I do?”

Steve laughed quietly, a huff of spearmint breath falling across your cheek and wasn’t unkind, it didn’t make you shrink like you thought it would’ve. “Well, yeah,” Steve answered. “You gotta warm yourself up, right? Get in the mood. Hasn’t anyone taken their time with you? Made you feel like, uh, like putty?”

“Putty?” Your lips kicked up at the corners, lashes fluttering as your eyes closed, happy to listen to Steve and the smile in his voice. He sounded shy, and it was lovely, it made you feel better, warmer, ready for what was happening.

“Yeah,” he huffed. “You know, all gooey n’shit. Nice. Relaxed.” Steve sucked in a breath and pressed your joined hands to your thigh, his so much wider and covering much more skin. “You’re real cute, babe, someone’s gotta treat you the same way.”

“No,” you shook your head, trying not to sound too sad about it, ‘cause Steve’s hand on your bare skin was starting to make you feel real nice, warm, just like he was describing. Except you were anything but relaxed, heartbeat a livewire racing through your bones, a new pulse thrumming, stomach jumping at each touch. “You think I’m cute?”

You weren’t sure why you asked that, but suddenly, you were desperate to know.

“You kiddin’?” Steve said and you could hear the smile there, the one you knew so well. He leaned in, chin hooked over your shoulder when he felt you settle back against him, body more lax than before. His lips brushed your cheek when he spoke. “You’re the cutest girl in town, d’you not know that?”

You squirmed, too pleased with his comment but embarrassed all the same. Steve always gave you too much attention but it was the way it had always been, a little flirting over the diner table, his hand on the small of your back when you walked through too big crowds, an offered cheek for you to kiss goodbye when he dropped you home after school.

“Shut up,” you whispered, voice thick and quiet and caught in your throat. You didn’t mean that. You didn’t want him to shut up at all. And Steve knew that.

“Now, if you’re the cutest thing in all of Hawkins,” he continued, emboldened by the way you tucked your head into the crook of his neck, letting your fingers go soft between his own. “Don’t you think you gotta be nice to yourself?”

Your breath stuttered and hitched in your chest and despite the nerves that still pinballed around in your stomach, your thighs dropped open a little, the hem of your skirt hitching higher still and Steve swallowed down a curse.

“I don’t think I know how.” It was embarrassing, admitting it, cheeks on fire, nose scrunched even though Steve couldn’t see.

His hands swept up your thighs, taking yours with them, stopping short of creeping under your skirt before retreating back down to your knees. “Like this,” the boy whispered. “See? Nice and sweet. Slow.”

You wanted to let your hands fall away, wanted to feel Steve’s rough fingertips and wide palms span over your skin but when you tried to pull away, Steve only tightened his grip. “Ah, ah, c’mon. You can’t learn if I do it for you.”

There was a whine stuck in your throat; a bratty, moody noise that you didn’t dare let out in fear of being teased by the boy for all of entirety but Steve seemed to sense your frustration anyway.

“C’mon, you got this.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to wherever he could reach, a warm smack of his lips against the skin under your ear, right by your jaw. “Relax, remember?”

So you did, letting out a small sigh before sinking back into him, legs widening and letting Steve drag your hands up and down your thighs, your skin erupting in goosebumps every time you felt a particularly rough graze of Steve’s short nails.

“What d’you think about?” He asked, voice hushed, almost hoarse. It sounded dirty, like a secret you weren’t supposed to tell anyone else about. “When you touch yourself? What d’you think about?”

You pressed your lips together and shrugged, a gasp wrenching out from you when Steve moved your hands inwards, to the softer dough of your thighs, creeping higher and higher until you felt the cotton and lace edge of your underwear against your fingertips.

“I dunno,” your voice didn’t sound like your own. “Someone else, I guess. Someone’s fingers, instead of my own. Being— being kissed and their, their mouth. Lips. Tongues.”

If Steve’s hips twitched up into your own, you were sure you’d imagined it. But he took a second before he answered, nodding so his nose pressed into your cheek, his hair fell over your own.

“S’good,” he agreed, praising you like any teacher would. “What about their mouth, huh? Where d’you want it?”

You squirmed, face on fire, teeth chewing something rotten at your poor bottom lip and when you didn’t answer, Steve took your hand and placed it over your cunt, the cotton there suddenly more damp than it was before. You wanted to throw yourself out the window. Or worse, at Steve.

“Here?” The boy suggested. He wasn’t really touching you, just his hand over your wrist and fingers, guiding, pressing slightly. “Has someone done that to you? Has someone put their mouth here?”

You shook your head, unable to stop the little whine that came out with it, disappointment colouring the sound. Steve tutted, cooing at you with sympathy and he let out a stuttered sigh when you took it upon yourself to press two fingers closer to your clit, seeking out some friction.

“That’s a real shame, you know that?” Steve’s hands left yours, only to grasp your waist and pull you back into him a little firmer and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel him, hard under his jeans, pressed into the bottom of your back.

It only made you press your fingers into yourself harder.

“It is?” You were breathless, each word a huff of air, face screwed up and eyes shut tight as you tried to work out where you wanted your fingers the most.

“Fuck, yeah it’s a shame, babe.” Steve whispered. “Told you, didn’t I? You’re the sweetest girl there is. And someone’s not tasted you? Not told how sweet you really are?” Steve blew out a breath, as if exasperated. “That’s just unfair.”

“Steve.” You weren't sure what you were whining your best friend's name for. For release? Permission? Guidance? All of the above, maybe.

But Steve seemed to know, ‘cause he nudged your hand closer to your cunt, coaxed you into running your fingers over your cotton covered folds. “Yeah?” He asked and his voice was hoarse, a little wrecked sounding. “Ready for more? Feelin’ good?”

You nodded, clumsy, breath coming out a little heavier than before.

Steve let one finger flirt with the edge of your underwear, along the lace trim where your cunt met your thigh and he snapped the elastic against you, feeling brave when you pressed back against him, like you couldn’t be close enough.

“Want these off?” You heard him swallow hard, sounding quieter than before. “Don’t have to, if you don’t want to. We can do whatever—”

You lifted your hips in answer, one hand holding onto Steve’s thigh for support as the other dragged down your underwear and your cheeks cringed with heat as you caught a glimpse of how wet the cotton was. You balled them into your fist, shoving them to the bottom of Steve’s bed and they lay there like a flashing neon sign, all lilac and buttercream coloured flowers, lacy and mortifying.

Your skirt still covered you, hiding a lot from Steve. But the boy could look over your shoulder and see the way your chest heaved, nipples pebbled underneath your T-shirt, the one you’d stolen from him freshman year and made into a crop top. You were all legs, soft thighs, socked feet digging into his duvet, skirt flirting dangerously with all that bare skin underneath. He tried not to rut up into you, but he knew you had to feel him by now, his hard cock pressed against your spine, twitching at every breathy noise you let out.

“What next?” You asked and you sounded desperate, more pent up than you’d ever felt before and you wondered if it was really because you were taking your time with it, if all these slow touches really worked. You wondered if it was Steve. “Should I just—?”

Your fingers dug into your thighs, sitting over your skin alone ‘cause Steve was gripping at his own knees, knuckles white on the denim. “Fuck,” his voice cracked. “Just, uh, do what feels good, yeah?”

You made a sound of protest, frustration spilling up and out of your throat because this is where it went wrong, fingers fumbling, unsure where to touch to be able to coax you over the edge.

“Hey, hey, s’alright,” Steve assured you, whispering again. “Give me your hand.”

You did, without hesitation, and together, with Steve’s fingers twisted between your own, he guided your touch underneath your skirt. You held your breath as you felt your own fingers - and the boy’s - slip between your folds, your legs parting automatically for him. You felt his breath hitch and fall over your cheek as you let out a tiny moan, urging him on, your fingers following his as he swept up and down your cunt, gathering up the slick there before pressing your middle finger to your clit.

“Yeah?” Steve asked and he sounded awed when you cried out, a soft grunt that made him see fucking God. “That good?”

You could barely speak. “Yeah,” you whispered on a breath, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder, giving Steve an unobstructed view down your front, to the way your hands could be seen between your thighs, skirt rucked up around them.

“Atta’ girl, keep doin’ that, okay?”

You did as you were told, adding your pointer finger to the mix, rubbing the two digits over your clit in soft circles, panting every time you felt Steve’s fingers slip between your own. Steve’s free hand was on your waist, a vice-like grip that you weren’t sure he was aware of, his palm on the strip of bare skin between your top and skirt. Every time you let out a shy noise, he squeezed, kneading at the dough there.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, jaw slack as he watched you work at yourself, never letting go of his hand and fuck, fuck, you were so wet, velvet heat under his touch.

“D’you use your fingers?” Steve asked you, lips against your cheek, both of you leaning into each other as if you were unable to help it. “Inside? Do you put your fingers inside yourself?”

Twenty minutes ago, you would’ve died if the boy had asked you such a thing, but now? Now? Now you whined at it, cunt clenching around nothing at the idea of it and you shook your head, temple rubbing against Steve’s cheek in a way that killed him with how fond it was.

“Not really,” you whispered to him, ‘cause even with his fingers slipping over your clit, you were still so shy. “Don’t feel big enough, never- shit - never full enough.”

Steve swore his eyes rolled back into his skull, ‘cause all he could see was white, a blank flash over his vision that felt white hot. He rubbed soothing at your waist, let his fingers span over the width of your side, blunt nails sliding over your ribs. “Poor girl,” he sympathised and he smiled when you whined as he pulled your fingers away. “Shh, gimme a minute, hey? Here, just, try this, huh?”

You didn’t get to ask what he was meaning before the fingers that had been rubbing over your slick skin were in his mouth, two digits pressed to his tongue and Steve sucked. He licked over the pads, most definitely tasting you and you felt his chest rumble with a groan he tried to keep in. And then, as quick as it happened, it was over.

Steve brought your spit slick fingers back between your thighs, nudging the tips of them against your entrance. You keened, hips arching off the bed a little until Steve soothed you back down against him, mouthing over your jaw and cheek in a touch that definitely couldn’t be misconstrued as a kiss.

You sighed as you slid them in, two fingers fucking into yourself as deep as you could manage, slipping in easily with how insanely turned on you were. You hooked them up, like all the articles in the magazines you hid from your parents told you to do, searching for that spot that would apparently make you see stars. But you fell short, fingers not long enough and your clit was aching with neglect.

“Steve,” you felt close to tears, the usual frustration bubbling at the surface of your chest, ready to pop and simmer over. You’d have normally given up by now. “Steve, s’not working.”

“Gotta be patient, babe,” Steve assured you, “gotta be nice to yourself, c’mon, don’t let your head take over.”

But Steve saw the tear that rolled down your cheek and he caught your chin, titling your face towards him as he frowned down at you. You looked wrecked, heartbroken and all pent up, lips red and slick from where you’d chewed at them, eyes all glassy.

He shouldn’t have asked. But he was already in too deep. What does it matter now, right?

Right?

“Want me to help?”

He waited, one second, two, three and then you nodded, relief and disbelief filling his chest all at once. He swallowed back a broken moan and tapped his thumb at your chin, just catching your pouting bottom lip. “You gotta tell me, please?”

“Please, Steve, please. I want you to touch me.”

He’d died. He was dead.

But then you were pulling at his wrist and guiding it back between your legs, your fingers slick from where they’d been inside of yourself and Steve wasn’t sure he was able to handle it. His middle finger nudged up against your entrance and Steve felt it flutter, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath and reminded himself that this was for you, not him.

He was rock fucking hard.

“Ready?” He asked in a last bid for confirmation. You were laying fully against him now, thighs pressed to his, skirt barely covering you and you nodded so furiously that Steve didn’t dare ask you to speak again. “Okay, I’ve got you, alright?”

His finger slid in so easily and you clenched around him, velvet heat that made his heart stutter and his cock kick up against your spine. You immediately felt the difference, the boy’s finger thicker and longer, already reaching parts of you that you’d never felt. You felt like you were going to burst.

“More?” Steve asked and his voice eas shot, eyes closing at the feel of you, your small hand wrapped around his wrist to ensure he wouldn’t stop and Steve wanted to tell you he’d never stop if you didn’t want him to, that he’d do this every fucking day if you’d let him. “Another?”

“Another,” you agreed and god, you weren’t holding back anymore, moans tumbling from your lips when Steve slid another finger in with his first, the feeling of your cunt tightening around him making you both cry out.

Your hips were shifting against him, listing yourself on and off of his fingers and he groaned, stuttered dirty, filthy words into your hair as he let you fuck yourself down onto his didgits. The friction was too much for him, his cock straining in the denim, weeping for release.

“Touch yourself, babe,” he managed to groan out, sighing at the sight of you doing what he told, hand flying to your thighs so you could rub messy, wet fingers over your clit. “That’s it, good girl. Jesus, are you close? I can feel you - fucking hell - I can feel you getting tighter.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, a sob ripping through your chest and Steve decided it wasn’t a good idea to ask, deciding that he needed to get you out of your own head so your body could take over.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” He asked instead, a whisper against your ear, his breath warm on your neck, his fingers spanning upupup until they grazed the lace of your bra. You rutted against his hand harder, whining when he hit a deep spot inside of you, one that made your vision go blue-white. “You do, don’t you? My girl likes hearing dirty things, right? Like when I asked you if someone had went down on you? If you’d had someone’s tongue here?”

Steve slid his fingers in and out of you a little faster to get his point across, sweating when you moaned his name. His name. Your own fingers were moving with intent now; tight concise circles that were making your toes curl.

“Would you let me do that? Huh?” Steve dared to asked, grinning when you almost ripped the sleeve off his shirt as you grabbed at his arm, lips falling open in a long moan. “Shit, you look so damn pretty, you know that? I could do that for you though, if you wanted.” Steve’s eyes closed for just a second at the thought of it. “Could put my mouth on you, let you know if you’re really as sweet as you look—”

You seized up, body stiffening as you let out a noise Steve would never forget, a breathy moan of his name that he’d think about every time he fisted his own cock. He kept pumping his fingers into you, eyes wide as your own hand faltered and you shook, head slumping back against his shoulder as you decided to hold onto him instead, hands reaching back to grab at his shoulders, his neck, his hair.

Your pussy was a vice around his fingers, filthy, wet sounds filling his bedroom and he was pretty damn sure but he had to ask, he had to know—

“You comin’, babe? Yeah?” You nodded, frantic, eyes slammed shut and nose scrunched up all cute and Steve couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop it. “Fucking hell, oh shit, yeah, there you go, that’s it, that’s it, that’s it—”

He wasn’t even ashamed that he came in his jeans like a teenager, in fact, he was a little insane with it. White spots over his vision as his cock twitched and jumped, letting his hips grind against your ass as you whined, your cunt still fluttering around his fingers as he slowed down the way they pumped in and out of you. He heard you swear when he finally pulled them away, slick with your release, sliding them into his mouth as if hiding the evidence.

Your eyes finally met Steve’s when you turned and flopped onto the bed next to him, mattress shifting as you both panting, chests heaving. He turned to find you already staring, eyes wide and cheeks flushed the prettiest colour, almost matching his own.

“Holy fucking shit,” you managed on a gasp.

“Told you,” he managed to say, fighting to keep the smile of his lips.

“What?” You frowned at him, wondering what on earth he wanted to say to you after that. He still looked like your best friend, still sounded like him too. Maybe just a little more smug. “Told me what?”

Steve took the time to push his finger into his mouth once more, enjoying the way your face burned, lips falling open as you watched, unblinking. He let his tongue wrap around it, chasing what was left of your taste until he let it go with a dirty pop.

“Sweetest girl in this fucking town,” he said.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

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Text

the other papaya | op81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (brief pato o’ward x fem!reader)

summary: something something the first five times you hear the name “oscar piastri” and the one time you say it

wc: 3,165

warnings: mention of covid lockdown, a wee bit o’ angst, drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

The first time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was said in contempt.

You knew your boyfriend didn’t hate him, but you also knew that Pato could practically hear the phone ringing with the offer to drive for McLaren in F1 right up until he found out that the seat was going to someone else. To Oscar Piastri. The “kid,” as he so aptly referred to him.

“He’s only two years younger than you,” you admonished him one night, soon after the announcement was made public.

“Exactly. A kid.”

“I’m two years younger than you.” You said, and that made him wrinkle his nose.

“Point taken.”

You would describe your relationship with Pato O’Ward as puppy love. Things between the two of you escalated a little too quickly, as many things in 2020 did. You went from going on a whopping four dates by the end of 2019 to living together for the foreseeable future when everything went on lockdown. Your mother had voiced her concern about it, but if you didn’t live with him you didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Besides, you liked each other so much that it only made sense that you continued to build your relationship in the comfort of his spacious apartment. The two of you settled into a decent rhythm, and you took the time to learn more about motorsport. When he was finally able to hit the track again, you went to every race you could, decked out in papaya, cheering him on no matter what. And you continued to do so even though he lost his chance at driving in F1 to “the kid.”

The second time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it came from the man himself when you ran into him at the 2024 Australian Grand Prix.

It was the first time you felt rather hesitant about going to a race with your boyfriend. Pato was welcomed to the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver, and that was how you found yourself feeling extremely out of place in the McLaren garage. You met Oscar’s girlfriend before you met him, and while she was kind enough to get you a pair of headphones and offer to sit with you during the race, the entire interaction had you feeling like you should’ve just stayed back at the hotel. All the other WAGs were dressed to the nines, looking effortlessly beautiful, and you were wearing ripped jeans and a jersey with Pato’s number on it, like you always did, even though he wasn’t racing. With Pato busy in a debrief, you were busy just trying to stay out of the way and not stick out like a sore thumb.

“Excuse me,” someone said, and you assumed you were in the way, so you apologized and started moving when the person grabbed your arm to stop you. “No, sorry, I just– hi. You’re Pato’s girlfriend, yeah?”

Your eyes widened when you recognized the man talking to you. “Um… yes, I am.”

“I’m Oscar. Piastri,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” you nodded, accepting his handshake and telling him your name in return. “Are you here to tell me I need to leave?”

“What? No, of course not. Pato told me you were here, so I wanted to come say hi.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face starting to grow hot, because you really weren’t sure what to do in this situation.

Pato lost a chance at a seat to this guy, and you remembered his disappointment well. But you didn’t expect Oscar to come up to you in a million years.

“That’s really nice of you,” you continued, trying to smile without looking too awkward. “Congrats on getting the seat. You must be pretty talented.”

“Ah, thanks.” He looked at you for a moment, and you looked back. “Anyway, I just wanted to say hi.”

You giggled in spite of yourself. “You said that already.”

“Right, yeah. Well, it was nice to meet you,” he said, hesitantly tacking your name onto the end of his sentence. “Thanks for being here.”

“Nice to meet you too, Oscar. Good luck today.”

Two races later, Pato messaged him to congratulate him on his podium, and you mentioned wanting to thank and congratulate him yourself. You got Oscar’s number, and after his quick response, the conversation died out, just as you expected. You didn’t have anything else to say to him anyway, but soon after, you got a follow request from him on Instagram. You accepted without a second thought– just one papaya supporting another.

The third time you heard Oscar Piastri’s name, it was when a TikTok showed up on your feed talking about the “shocking split” between him and his girlfriend. You were reasonably surprised; his girlfriend was beautiful and kind, and from an outsider’s perspective they seemed quite happy with each other. The video went on to discuss speculation that his girlfriend was the one who had ended the relationship, and there were pictures of him looking visibly upset at the latest race. You closed the app, feeling like you were massively invading his privacy even though the first thing you saw upon opening Instagram was a statement on his story confirming the breakup. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

“Ah, so you saw, too,” Pato said, adjusting his workout clothes as he leaned over your shoulder.

“It’s terrible,” you sighed, shutting your phone off. “They seemed so happy together.”

“High school sweethearts, too. That makes it worse.”

You gave him a look. “You can feel bad for him, y’know.”

“I do!” Pato raised his hands with a laugh. “But if he wants to sit out of a race because of this, I won’t be upset.”

“You’re terrible, get out of here.” You shoved him playfully, and he left with a kiss on your forehead.

The last race weekend before summer break brought you a taste of the heartbreak Oscar went through only a couple months prior.

Pato had been in one of the older cars running some tests, and came home a little later than usual. He didn’t even answer your question of how his day was before he was sitting you down on the couch and looking anywhere but at your face.

“Pato, what’s going on? You’re kind of freaking me out,” you laughed nervously.

“I think we should break up.” He said, face stony.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a little while,” he began, “and I think it’s for the best.”

“How long is ‘a while’?” You asked, shifting away from him as you felt your heart begin to pound.

“Ever since I became a reserve driver.” He confessed, and you scoffed.

“Are you serious right now?”

“This is the closest I’ve ever been to a F1 seat.” He said, like that made breaking up logical.

“Yeah, I know. And you know how I know? Because I’ve been around for years.” You hissed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “But I guess that means nothing to you.”

“Don’t be like that,” Pato protested, following close behind. “This is my career. I don’t want to risk anything.”

“Right. Of course.” You nodded, moving about the room to collect as much of your stuff as you could with shaking hands.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. You packed up all your things and took the soonest flight to Australia to try and forget about the fact that Pato had just thrown away years of being together for a fleeting chance at driving a stupid race car.

The fourth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s on the other end of the phone.

The two weeks following your breakup are uneventful and entirely consist of you, the warm Australian sun, and the spare bedroom in your aunt and uncle’s house. You haven’t deleted any of your IndyCar posts, nor have you posted any more. In fact, you haven’t posted anything since the last time you were in Australia, only a few months ago. Your Instagram has become stagnant; a reflection of your real life. You haven’t told many people about your breakup, so you’re surprised when your phone rings. Even more so when you see who it is.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Oscar. Piastri,” he adds his last name like an afterthought, just like he did when he introduced himself in the garage.

“I know,” you say, pushing yourself into a sitting position on your bed. “Caller ID. Although you’re probably the last person I’d expect a call from.”

“Listen, are you not around anymore?” He asks, evidently not in the mood to beat around the bush. “I haven’t seen you, and you haven’t posted about IndyCar or anything.”

“Ah, um, yeah, no, I’m not.” You clear your throat uncomfortably. “Actually, Pato and I broke up. Well, he broke up with me. So, no reason for me to be around, I guess.”

“Oh,” Oscar says, his loud sigh crackling through the microphone. “I figured something was wrong. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I’m uh… I’m sorry too. Seemed like you had a good thing going.”

“Thanks. Seemed that way for you, too,” he mumbles. “So… I guess things have really been sucking for both of us lately.”

“Pretty much.” You laugh.

“This is a terrible idea,” he begins after a moment of silence, “but are you in Australia right now?”

You debate lying to him, because it is a terrible idea, and you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say next. You don’t care. “I am.”

“Alright, well, it’s summer break for F1 right now, and to be honest you’re the only person I know that understands what I’ve been going through.”

“Are you asking me to be your wallowing buddy?” You ask.

“Something like that. My plan was pretty much along the lines of drowning our sorrows in alcohol.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and for some reason that does you in.

The fifth time you hear Oscar Piastri’s name, it’s through a cheap karaoke microphone.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve spent with him, and you feel like you’re still a little drunk from the night before when he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

“What is this, a celebration?” You ask, stretching your arms and legs out so you look like a starfish where you lay on the living room floor.

“It’s whatever the fuck we want it to be.” He takes two glasses and pours the champagne out.

You giggle at him while he dramatically sets them both down on the coffee table at your side. “You definitely pregamed before you got here.”

“I did not,” he protests, but you shake your head.

“No, no, you say curse words like that when you’re drunk.”

“Like what?”

“Like, ‘oh my God, this champagne is so fucking good.’” You mock him after taking a sip, and he starts laughing too.

“Fine, you caught me.” He throws his hands up. “I pregamed. But, I walked here, so who cares?”

You’re glad that your aunt and uncle are out for the night, because a few hours and countless glasses of champagne later find the both of you in the attic, discovering a karaoke microphone without a machine to match.

“Screw the machine, we don’t need the shitty machine,” Oscar rolls his eyes, watching you put batteries into the microphone. “We’ll just find something on YouTube. Does it work?”

You flip the switch and hold it up to your mouth. “HELLO? It works.”

You regret putting fresh batteries into it as soon as Oscar gets up to sing. You think that he might not be half bad if he’s sober, but drunk, his singing is absolutely insufferable. You would care if you weren’t equally as drunk as him. He pulls up a karaoke video of Last Friday Night by Katy Perry, only after getting you to swear on the lives of your entire family that you won’t tell anyone what you see or hear. You consider secretly recording him, but the second he starts, you’re practically folded in half from laughing so hard at his antics and the fleeting idea is gone.

He’s so dramatic with every lyric, like he’s trying to act all the words out while he’s singing about a stranger in his bed and pink flamingos in his (nonexistent) pool. When he gets to the part of the chorus talking about taking too many shots, he gestures for you to hand him the champagne bottle. You hand it over immediately and watch as he stops singing entirely to take a long drink straight from the bottle, ignoring how attractive he looks the whole while. You actually think that you’d really like to kiss him. You’re drunk, and you’re heartbroken. You just want to laugh and forget about it all. So when he chokes on the champagne for a moment and flounders to find where he’s supposed to be in the song, you do just that.

The song ends both too soon and not soon enough, and you give him a round of applause, chanting, “Encore!” a few times as he takes a bow.

“I’m Oscar Piastri,” he yells, “and I fucking hate relationships!”

You cheer loudly. “Speak on it!”

“Except I have a problem,” he says, all of a sudden dejected as he flops onto the couch beside you, still speaking into the mic. “I have a biiiig, huuuuge problem.”

“Tell the all-knowing, and she shall answer,” you turn onto your side to face him and reach out to… you don’t remember what you wanted to do. Maybe touch his cheek. Or his nose. Or his lips.

Your hand ends up resting on the top of his head, fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair.

“I think I might really like you,” he whispers, his words muffled by his lips smushing against the top of the mic. “Which is not good. I mean, it’s good, like, I think you’re amazing, but it’s not good, because I broke up and then you broke up, so we both broke up, but not with each other, with other people, and–”

You cut him off by taking the mic from him with your free hand and switching it off.

“Sorry.” He says, blinking at you slowly. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“We do,” you begin, petting his head. “Eventually. But not now. I am way too drunk to talk about this.”

This makes him start giggling, so you start giggling, and then you’re both cackling and clutching your stomachs.

You want to laugh, and forget about it, and you want to do it every single day with Oscar.

The first time you say the name Oscar Piastri, it’s while you’re laying in a hospital bed.

You’ve always been notorious for getting easily bruised, but breaking a bone is a first. Especially when it happens in the public eye.

You were only trying to make a cute, aesthetic TikTok showcasing your first race weekend as Oscar’s official girlfriend when you tripped and fractured your ankle in front of half the McLaren team. Not to mention the throng of fans mere feet away.

The two of you didn’t start dating until half a year after his drunken confession, and when you first started going out you had to be very discreet so fans didn’t expose the both of you before either of you were ready. Most of your dates ended up being at your aunt and uncle’s, which had become your home too once you got a job and started really getting yourself together after your breakup. He flew out to see you all the time, and as soon as he suggested that you come with him to the race of the season, you jumped on the opportunity. You didn’t think you’d ever go to a race again, but here you were. You were both happy, and you were both ready.

And now you’re fuming, mentally cursing yourself as you look down at your boot-covered ankle that has now effectively ruined your entire weekend.

Oscar comes rushing into the room, and you hold up a hand.

“Don’t tell me. Do not even tell me.” You shake your head. “Just tell me if it’s somewhat safe to go online or if I should just throw my phone out.”

“What?”

“I know people are talking about it. Oh, no.” Your eyes widen. “No, no. I’ve become a public embarrassment for you. I knew it. It only took me a few hours.” You cover your face with your hands. “Oh, my God… I am so sorry.”

“Again, what?” He asks, prying your hands away. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from that,” you gesture to the boot, glaring at it before your eyes shoot back up to him. “Wait a second, how did quali go? Did you do your media stuff already?”

“I’m starting P5. I came here right after, no media.” He rushes out, pulling up a chair so he can sit right next to you and hold your hand. “They’re letting you go, right?”

“Yeah, just have to do some paperwork and get a prescription– why didn’t you go to the media?”

“Because they told me you got hurt? And you needed to be hospitalized?” He says, like it’s obvious.

“Oz, you get fined for that!” You exclaim. “Oh, no, this is so bad! First I embarrass you– no, not just you, probably the entire team, and now you’re here and not there and you’re going to get in trouble… fuck, what if you get fired?!”

“Baby, baby,” Oscar laughs, grabbing both of your hands now. “I’ll get fined, but I’m not gonna get fired just because I skipped media one time. Zak was fine with it, if that makes you feel better.”

You’re still worried, and he can see it in your eyes.

“What’s got you so worked up about this?” He asks softly.

“I just… don’t want to be a risk towards your career.” You say, feeling ashamed that you can still hear Pato’s words from the day he broke up with you. Oscar knows immediately.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, leaning in and kissing you on the lips, and then your nose. “None of this means anything if I don’t have you.”

You’re still taking it slow, but this is the closest either of you have come to saying “I love you” without saying it, so you pull your hands from his and cup his cheeks to pull him into another kiss.

“Oscar Piastri, you are my whole world.”

Ten minutes later, Lando comes bursting into the room with such aggression that he almost faceplants, and he makes so much noise that a nurse runs into the room looking highly concerned.

So, you laugh, and you forget about it, and you do it with Oscar at your side, where you know he’ll stay for the rest of your lives.

note: this was a bitch to write. also i was gonna make a layout for this but i really wanted to post it tonight so it is sans layout and was edited like a half hour before it’s scheduled to post. all that being said, i hope u enjoyed!!

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

#request #full fic #op81 week #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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cxlamarisalxmi · 10 months

Text

Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom [2]

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: fighting, depictions of violence and gore, angst, female pronouns (she/her), feminine gendered terms used to describe reader, Venom is a big softie, only for you though 🤭

a/n: this is marked as part two because the first one shot was the first part, the drabble was more of an introduction to the idea 😭 I understand there might be some confusion about how these parts are set up but yeah the drabble was intended to introduce the idea more than it was meant to be an actual part of the series— like an extended epigraph… sort of

—

It was raining the day your father had decided to return to your dimension— the dark and gloomy rain clouds above thick and heavy as they devoured the sky.

With them they brought raindrops thick and heavy in density that were spat out in a torrential downpour. Falling in copious and rapid quantities.

You had been sitting perched on the corner of a building’s roof, observant and watchful as you patrolled the streets from your perch.

The darkness that had followed the overcast night sky left the street lamps and starkly bright city lights bright and prominent in their glow. And your sensitive and finely tuned auditory perception picked up on the sounds of tires driving through rainwater on the pavement. The sound of particularly nocturnal people walking, bustling and moving about— the way their shoe soles stepped on the soaked through concrete of the sidewalk, some splashing as they came across puddles in the divets of the ground.

Everything that involved your senses and being aware of the world around you sharpened dramatically, now keen on focusing on the world around you. Listening starkly for any kind of traumatic event occurring.

“I like the rain.”

“Me too.”

“The atmosphere is relaxing. We feel at peace.”

You couldn’t help but agree, the weather more than accommodating in the sense your mood had improved drastically.

It had been two weeks since your father had made his appearance, and since then you had been tightly wound and more than a little hurt at his abrupt intrusion. Even more hurt at the way he had just left without so much as an ounce of effort in trying to get you to talk to him.

He had called your name, and he did speak to you— that was something you could acknowledge, but the fact he hadn’t bothered trying beyond that spoke a lot about what your relationship had come to. What it still was.

He didn’t care about you, he never had and the encounter from a little less than half a month ago gave you the impression that he never would.

A small part of you could admit that you had hoped maybe he would come after you, chase you down, take you into his arms and hold you tenderly. Lovingly.

An even larger part overwhelmed that feeling with a cold and bitter indifference that made you more angry than sad. Sparked to life when he left you behind in a home you didn’t know, with people you didn’t trust— and festered to much more significant levels as the years continued to pass with not a single word from him.

You shouldn’t have expected him to make an effort to fix your relationship, and you hated that you were so bothered that he hadn’t tried at all. You should’ve known that he hadn’t ever intended to be involved with you at all. And you should’ve just accepted that your relationship was beyond fixing— and there was no point in trying to repair something that had died a long time ago. Irreparable— damaged and broken.

And whilst anger and hate had spread and taken over most of your heart and soul, there was still a small part inside that was more hurt than anything.

That small child inside that had depended on her father more than ever in the wake of her mother’s death. A little girl that had quickly learned he wasn’t dependable, she couldn’t count on him at all. And she was quick to learn that there wasn’t anyone who had her back, was on her side. It developed into her trusting absolutely no one— “the only one I can really trust.. is me.”

“[Y/Name]? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured quiet and tame as you continued to watch over the city. The darkness and ache that had consumed your heart so very deeply at the remembrance of your father had dissipated when your friend had spoken to you. “I’m fine V.”

“Was it about him?”

You didn’t respond and they had expected that you wouldn’t, and didn’t say much after that. And you appreciated their understanding that you didn’t want to talk about them.

There was a moment of tranquility, peace in the loud bustle of your city as the rain continued to fall. But then your senses tingled as the familiar sound of a portal spinning open erupted behind you. There wasn’t a moment of stillness that you allowed before you were spitting webs at the wall behind the portal.

Miguel walked through the portal a moment later, it closed a second after and then you were launching yourself at him.

He may have not had the tingle at the expense he wasn’t even really changed like you had been. He hadn’t been bitten but had his genetic code changed, and his abilities came from a vial of liquid he injected directly into his bloodstream to keep his powers sharp and potent.

So, whilst he didn’t have the spider senses that tingled anytime danger was nearby, his natural instincts had been sharpened finely. Thus, he was able to bring up his arms as you drop kicked him into the wall you had slung your webs at.

Even though he was blocking his face protectively you had put enough strength behind the kick to hurt him, and he grunted as your kick connected sending him flying back.

[Y/Name] jumped to meet him against the brick wall and grabbed him by the throat, tightening her clawed fingers around his neck before she was pulling him from the wall and throwing him off the building to the street below.

The previous feeling of peace and content that had warmed her chest and blood had diminished, and was now replaced with thorough rage. Hot and ferocious.

[Y/Name] had sworn to Venom that she absolutely would resort to murder if her father ever returned to her universe, and here he was. So the alien didn’t falter nor make an effort to halt the anger that was slowly but surely filling his host’s body.

Another portal opened up behind her and she felt an itch of annoyance as she felt the familiar presence that made her senses tingle. Jessica Drew.

A snarl tugged at her features as she curled her lip and looked over her shoulder, a ferocious glare fierce and angry in her bright eyes.

“Venom.”

“Of course.”

Jessica stared as a thick, black matter pooled from her back and slid across her lean and muscular frame. The alien-like viscous oil gliding across every plane of her frame, concealing her entire white and blue suit in a tightened black version of it instead.

“[Y/Name],” Jessica began soft and quiet— an attempt to somehow quell the furious fire of rage she could feel hot and angry from where she stood several feet behind the young teenager. “I know what you must be feeling—”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You want to kill him. And I can’t let you do tha—”

Her sentence was cut short when she was suddenly thrown backwards, her senses had tingled but not nearly quick enough. And she had been sent backwards to the brick wall in consequence, she gaped at the O’hara stood in front of her on the edge of the roof.

She had turned to face Jessica with her back, and the blackened webbing surrounding her body seemed to pulse and tightened around her body. Every time she squirmed attempting to loosen them, cut them or escape they would just tighten. She resorted to calling out to [Y/Name] instead—

“Spider-Woman doesn’t kill people!”

[Y/Name] willed her mask to peel away, the small and thin tendrils crawling up her neck and hugging her forehead only made the harsh glare she threw at Jessica over her shoulder much darker. The snarl she gave baring abnormally sharp canines seemed to make her even more intimidating— it made Jessica uncomfortable how a simple look made a chill rake down her back.

“You’re right. But we do.”

And she shivered again at the alien voice that rumbled from the young adult’s chest. The words she spoke only succeeding in making her all the more uncomfortable and frightened. The tone she spoke in was deep and ferociously monstrous. And Jessica stared as the O’hara glared back for a single second before she jumped disappearing over the side of the roof.

[Y/Name] landed on the sidewalk paved along the side of the asphalt road, she jumped forward flipping out of the way as her father shot a web at the spot she occupied previously.

But he had jumped to meet her midair and they grappled as they fell back to the road, she managed to wrangle a hold on the back of his suit and brought forth Venom’s strength to throw him down the road before landing on it herself.

Miguel’s sharpened instincts flared aggressively as his young daughter launched a car at him. He spun around extending his arm forward simultaneously— the long and sharp blade on his forearm cutting the car cleanly in half. But she had been there to surprise him, lunging forward after she had thrown the car knowing he’d cut it in half opening up an ambush as she erupted in between each piece of the vehicle.

He gasped silently in shock at her appearance through the split and grunted when her punch connected to his face. Enough strength from her abilities coupled with Venom to send him flying back. And he flipped midair to land on his feet several feet down the street, he dug the blades on his forearms into the pavement to halt his movement as he looked up.

“I suffered! Alone! For twenty years, because of your cowardice!” [Y/Name] shouted as she stormed down the street, the mask Venom provided peeling back to reveal a ferocious snarl tugging her lips back and baring abnormally sharper canines.

“Protecting the security of the multiverse is not cowardly!”

“You knew invading another universe at the expense of your variant’s death was wrong! You knew your presence could collapse the very fabrics of a dimension! You always knew!” She roared in exclamation to his rather weak defense, having stopped just a few feet in front of him to properly put her feelings forward. Give him everything she had bottled up inside that had erupted suddenly since his abrupt appearance in her dimension two weeks ago.

Miguel just stood there, he swallowed thickly at her statement as he held eye contact with her. There wasn’t any indication he was intimidated by her on his face, his expression blank and guarded with slanted brows and narrowed eyes. But internally he was dreading the fight that would no doubt occur, she was anomoly after all.

“But— when she told you she was pregnant, when she told you she was excited to start your family.. what did you do? What did you do? You. Ran!”

“She was never meant to bear children! Never meant to give birth to you— that was not my fault!”

The audacity he had to ruin her life and not even acknowledge it only made [Y/Name] all the more furious, her blood boiling beneath her skin as she tightened her vicious snarl. “Not your fault?!”

[Y/Name] advanced forward, she reached to her left— her muscular forearm flexing beneath the deep black Venom suit as she gripped the side of another car and effortlessly lifted it throwing it at him.

He jumped to the side to dodge but she was there to meet him once again, having leapt from her spot on the street to put her knee in his face. He couldn’t bring his arms up quick enough to block it this time, and she forced him backwards when she utilized Venom’s alien strength to really hurt him.

Miguel grunted as her strike connected and he was thrown into the side of the building off to the side. She followed right behind him tearing her arm back and throwing it forward the second she was close enough. The hit had enough power and strength in it to send him right through the brick wall and into the empty warehouse within.

[Y/Name] landed several feet away from the form of her father on the ground, he was slow to get back to his feet but once he had he turned to face her. And she could tear his throat out at the scowl carved into his features, the conversation that followed only making her all the more infuriated.

“I’m not here for any other reason than to capture the anomaly in your dimension.” He says, a still blank and guarded look on his face. One that his young daughter matched only to a degree that looked more like she was enraged rather than unbothered.

“There’s no anomaly here, Venom and I would’ve picked up it’s unnatural scent immediately.” She reasoned.

“You wouldn’t know of it’s presence. Because it’s you.”

“What?”

“You are an anomaly, you were never meant to be born.. never meant to be bitten… never meant to host Venom. You don’t belong. You need to be contained.”

[Y/Name] froze, Venom inside stilling too as he and herself processed the words that had just fell from her father’s mouth. All was quiet for but a moment—

“You…”

Miguel watched as a dark look overtook her features, from enraged previously to downright hostile as her eyes darkened to an unseen degree. He felt a shiver of fear and intimidation shuck down his back in a brief burst.

“You bastard.”

The snarled words growled from her throat sent another ripple down his spine. And he swallowed thickly as the deep black viscous matter of Venom returned, and then she bore the same appearance as before.

The same lean and muscular frame but now entirely black with a white spider insignia, her mask’s eyes now more monstrous-like as opposed to the regular diamond shape as most spider people.

“Fine.”

[Y/Name] Venom snarled ferociously, Miguel watched as the alien bulked up his daughter. Not so much so that it wasn’t proportionate but enough to have him breathe out a brief exhale of uncertainty and anxiety.

His daughter had become powerful in his absence, and he had caused the black hatred to plague her heart. The fact she only looked at him with hate and a fiery light of murder and bloodthirsty rage was his fault and his fault alone. He had no one to blame but himself.

So, he really had no one to blame for this fight that would occur one way or another. He wasn’t sure he could beat her, and for the first time in a long while he felt a surge of anxiousness brew to life in his stomach. His heartbeat slightly erratic at the new feeling of diminished confidence in his chest.

He knew this would be hard, he knew he was walking into this fight with a significant power difference, and he knew for damn sure he wasn’t certain he’d keep his head. And Miguel had no one to blame for it—

But himself.

—

a/n: started writing out requests so expect to see those soon but don’t get too excited as I can’t promise when exactly they’ll be finished and posted, my classes are kicking my ass and my job fucking sucks so.. bear with me please and I hope you enjoyed!

—

Taglist: @violilaqrs @christinesdemoness1958 @erensbbg @nickey-diano @gamersansblog @ayyybee @raweggeater @shrekstoesblog @azzy-ozborn @nda-approval @9kaaulitz @jazjelspen @myconglomerateromance @sweetheartlizzie07 @nyx-does-stuff @krazy-kattzz @sparklyphantom @loser-alert @bath1lda

Sorry if I missed you on the taglist!

#miguel o’hara #platonic reader #across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #miguel o’hara x reader #jessica drew #miguel o’hara x daughter!reader #x daughter!reader

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bettysupremacy · 11 months

Text

Steve-o

Summary: Steve thinks you’re very pretty, and desperately needs your number.

A/N: i love Steve. a lot.

The world stops for approximately 5 second when Steve Harrington first sees you. It’s heavy crashing infatuation that has Steve questioning, is love at first sight real?

He’s never been a believer in this sort of thing, you get to know them, you fall for them. At least, that’s how it was with Nancy. You can’t fall In love with a person you’ve never met, you don’t even know them.

But that’s what Steve found so beautiful, the unknown.

“Dude, why aren’t you walking?” Robin turns from where she stands, realizing Steve is no longer beside her.

“It’s her, Robs.” He breathes.

“It’s who?”

“My soulmate, my pairing, my one true love.” He contradicts everything he believes in.

“Oh my god,” Robin groans annoyedly. “You cannot be serious right now, Steve.”

He nods. “As a heart attack.”

Papers scatter the Scoops Ahoy wheel table you sit at. They’re filled with words and colorful highlighter. Smart, he thinks, I know she’s smart.

“Get your ass over here and keep walking, we’re gonna be late.” He won’t budge. “God, please, Steve.”

“I need her number.” He shakes his head.

“You need one less late clock in.”

Steve whines, breaking his eye sight on you for the first time. “Let me have this, Robs.”

“I’ve let you have 3 late days, one more and Kieth said he’d fire your ass.”

“Kieth says a lot of things.” He turns his head to her. “How do I ask? Name first? Number? Age?”

“Well typically you introduce yours-“

“Fuck off, Robin, I know what I’m doing.”

He takes a moment. Maybe he should’ve let Robin finish her advice, he’s never been this nervous to ask out a girl.

“This level of melodramatic is a new low, Steve.”

“Fuck off.” This pushes him to walk into Scoops.

When he reaches the table, it’s an obvious realization that you’re studying. The papers are neat despite thrown around, and there’s a highlighter key next to your elbow. He feels guilty interrupting.

Be normal! Repeats in his head like a mantra. God!

“Hi,” he starts, he feels like he could throw up. “I’m Steve.”

You startle. “Hi, Steve.”

He laughs nervously. Robin rolls her eyes so hard her head tilts back and her hands come up to cover her face exasperatedly. You smile. Steve doesn’t.

He takes a look around the room awkwardly. How could he ever stand these blue and red lights? “I used to work here yanno.”

You nod. “You work in the video store now.”

“That I do.” He bounces in his new shoes, “Wait, have you been in?”

“Yeah, I come every Saturday.”

“No shit.” He breathes. You look taken aback, a little confused, a little offended.

“I mean! No shit, I would’ve remembered a face so pretty.”

“Good one, dingus.”

“Take a walk.” He replies quickly.

“Do you.. need something?” You ask carefully. His face crumples and something sick in your heart twists. “Not to be rude! I just- English 101 doesn’t finish itself.”

“English 101! You go to Hawkins Community? I was gonna go, I just wanted a taste of hardworking minimum wage life first” his eyes widen, “not that what you’re doing isn’t hard work!”

Can the world just cave in on him now? Shoot me.

“She asked a question, Steve-o” Robin puts in. Unhelpfully.

He glares at Robin. “I was wondering if I could get your number? It’s okay if not!” He adds quickly. “Just like- maybe we could go out sometime?”

Your head spins, pretty boy comes and asks for your number? You can’t mess this up.

“You like movies?”

“Uhh duh,” Steve laughs. Robin doesn’t know how much more she can take of this. “Totally.”

“You pick a movie,” You smile, “and come over Saturday. I’ve got a really big tv.”

Now Steve may be nervous, but he wasn’t born yesterday.

“Yeah!” He seems overeager. “Yeah,” he fixes. “I’ll pick out a movie.”

“Okay.” You smile up at him.

He juts out his wrist. “You can write it.. here.”

Your laugh cuts through his nerves like a sharp knife. “Yeah, okay.”

Pretty pink highlighter seeps into Steve’s unblemished wrist. He watches you write your number moonstricken. Your fingers press into his skin warmly and something turns in his tummy, you’re so pretty.

“Well I’ll be seeing you..” He looks at his wrist, “Y/N.”

“I’ll be seeing you, Steve-o” She takes from Robin.

He laughs, turning to walk with Robin again. “Steve-o” he mouths.

Robin is sure to have an aneurism. They were supposed to clock in 3 minutes ago.

“You happy with yourself?”

Steve grins, big and boyish. “Yeah, I am.”

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve Harrington #steve harrington x fem! reader #steve harrington x reader #Steve x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff

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xfgpng · 7 months

Text

Tengen Uzui

— : [nsfw] slow and soft sex, a little fluff

— : kink :: overstimulation

“you can go again” he whispers, kissing your ear and then your jaw. you feel his teeth grazing your jaw down to your neck and then he’s biting down as he shoves his cock back into you.

despite you having cum a few times already, it still hurts and he loves it. loves how you’ll never really get used to his size and it only makes him want to fuck you that much more.

“it’s too much” you push against his chest but you don’t move you legs from around his waist and despite the slight pain and discomfort, you still moan for him when he thrusts slowly into you.

like this, it feels good because he likes going slowly, watching you fall apart all for him.

he grins when you try to glare at him. your eyes are shining and red rimmed and to him, you’ve never looked prettier than now.

“don’t be like that baby” he chuckles, “this is what you wanted”

he’s not wrong. since becoming his 4th wife, tengen has taken it upon himself to make sure you felt loved and cared for. he tried to give you the same amount of attention and it wasn’t like it was hard for him but you still felt left out.

you insisted you wanted your own room, not wanting to impose on them and it upset them all.

when you arrived home, they had prepared a bath for you and told you to wait for tengen in your room. they looked like they were up to something and looking back, you should’ve known better.

“where did you go to?” he asks, kissing your lips softly as he pulls out just enough to leave the tip inside you.

“i’m here” you gasp, gripping his bicep when he slowly thrusts back into you. it’s slower than usual and you know he’s doing it on purpose.

your legs almost feel numb but he could go on for hours if you’d let him and in truth, you’d never really deny him or your wives anything and they knew that.

“i just want to remind you that you’re mine now” he tells you, lifting your thigh so it’s close to your chest, “i want to show you that you’re just as loved and wanted as my other wives baby”

you nod, tears threatening to fall so you look to the side, biting you lip hard so you don’t make too much noise.

“eyes on me baby” he says firmly, “i want you to see just how good you make me feel”

you know he’s being polite by telling you instead of gripping your jaw like he usually does. you’ve never minded the roughness, it didn’t give you time to think like you often did when he was teasing you or taking things extra slow like tonight.

he presses his large hand on your stomach and thrusts up a little harder this time and your mind goes blank. you can do nothing else but moan and cry out for him, begging him to fuck you harder and faster.

and he’s always been a man that aimed to please.

#[ 🪼 ] xfg writes #[ 🌶️ ] xfg’s thirsts #[ 😈 ] xifeng’s kinktober #tengen uzui #tengen smut #tengen x y/n #tengen x you #tengen x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny tengen #demon slayer tengen #tengen uzui smut #tengen uzui x reader #tengen uzui x you #tengen uzui x y/n #kny tengen smut #demon slayer tengen smut

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bucketsofmonsters · 5 months

Note

I was wondering, in Proper Etiquette (my favourite of your writings) Reader is wearing dresses and corsets all the time (which is Wonderful and corsets are Not Evil Actually they're literally a bra that supports the weight of heavy layers of skirts BUT I DIGRESS) but how would Rygel react to his wife, feeling a little cold as fall comes along, asks to have a sweater like he's wearing and some warm pants or a wool skirt and petticoat to wear with the sweater, rather than her usual fine clothes that clearly aren't built for the weather in her new home

You’re so real for the corset thing, I will defend corsets until the day I die. Also sorry this took me forever

Rygel ran hot. You were well aware of that fact by now. Every time you pressed up against him he radiated heat, more than any person you’d ever been near, although to be fair you didn’t have much of a frame of reference.

What had taken a bit longer was realizing they all did.

When you’d first arrived it had been summer, a little colder than the summers you were accustomed to, but nothing too severe.

But then winter had come, and with it, something unfamiliar to you. With it came the snow.

It was a perfect coincidence for them because while they seemed largely comfortable in the cold of your new home, you were not. You were instead accustomed to a little rain in the winter, maybe some cold winds, but nothing an extra layer or two couldn’t combat.

This was far from that. At first, the snow had been delightful. You’d only ever heard stories and caught glimpses of it on the peaks of faraway mountains, but here it was all around you.

As the novelty faded, it became a bit more of a problem.

You tried what you’d always done, adding layers and bundling up, but you just didn’t have enough. Nothing you had was built for this kind of cold and it wasn’t like you could borrow clothes from someone, you’d drown in the sheer amount of fabric.

So instead you stood, bundled under layers that were helpless against the biting cold. You’d barely been outside for a few minutes before you’d rushed back into the warmth of your room but the cold had settled in your bones and couldn’t be snuffed out so easily.

Your jaw was clenched to stop your teeth from chattering, your whole body wound tight, trying to preserve what little heat you had.

“I’m not built for this,” you said with a huff as you collapsed backward onto your bed, wrapping yourself in blankets.

Rygel huffed out a laugh from his desk, his attention still focused on whatever he was reading. “Not built for what?”

“Winter. Not here at least. I think I might go into hibernation.”

He froze, eyes widening before he turned to you. “Oh my god, you’re cold. Of course you are, I should’ve prepared for this.”

You cut him off. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve been keeping inside as much as I can, the layers have been helping, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He did not seem convinced. “We don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you. Hell, we don’t have warm enough clothes anyway. Shit. You should’ve told me.” His words were dripping with concern as the full implications of his mistake hit him.

“Rygel,” you said, trying to cut through the worry and reassure him. “I’m fine, really, it’s not a big deal. I can stay inside for a season, god knows there’s more than enough fires and blankets in this place to keep me warm.”

“I should have realized. I forget how fragile your kind are, I should have seen this coming, gotten you some real clothes. As much as I love those dresses, we have to get you in some furs. ”

“We are not fragile, you are just all far too sturdy. And besides, I like my dresses.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed dismissively with a smile. “Sure we are. I really should have been more careful with you though. Your safety is more important than anything. I will keep you warm if it’s the last thing I do, even if we do have to cover up those pretty little dresses. Now, how will I ever manage to keep you warm until we can get you some better-suited clothes?”

You climbed onto his lap, ducking underneath his shirt, and pressed up close to him, absorbing his heat as you felt a chuckle run through his chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t get you warm clothes,” he said as a steady arm wrapped around you. “I think I prefer this.”

You hummed in agreement. “Plus it’s very dignified.”

His hand scooped under you, lifting you while keeping you close to him. “Very.”

You happily nuzzled further into his chest and he returned to his work, his arm still firmly wrapped around you. You were sure he’d find something for you, get you warmer clothes and make sure you were safe and warm and happy. His concern more than convinced you of that.

And when all else failed, at least your husband ran hot.

#proper ettiquette #monster bf #monster x human #terato #asks #monster boyfriend #monster x reader #demon x reader #demon x human

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icallhimjoey · 7 months

Text

Lost & Found

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase. CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though! Author’s note: I asked for requests and then used 0 of them – sorry – this is one of those things that started in a whatsapp chat and started living its own life fairly quickly. Wasn't meant to become a five-parter but, big sigh, here we are... I hope you enjoy this first part! Wordcount: 3.4K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Of course. Of fucking course.

Something always had to go fucking wrong, didn’t it? Couldn’t just be smooth fucking sailing for once, could it?

Jesus fucking Christ.

Joe massaged his temples as he let his breath escape through flared nostrils.

Typical.

He’s just flung his suitcase onto the bed, ready to charge what needed charging and to change what needed changing. The heavy bounce of it should’ve told him something was off.

That wasn’t his.

It wasn't his suitcase that he'd just flung onto his hotel bed.

It looked enough like it, but his three-digit code didn't unlock it, and upon closer inspection, this one had a lot of marks on it that suggested it had been used a lot more and for a lot longer.

Not his suitcase.

Same brand. Same colour. Same model. Not his.

He'd taken the wrong suitcase. Like the day hadn't been long enough already.

The warm breeze had felt glorious when he'd stepped off the plane, the temperature balmy enough to really make him feel the difference when walked down the stairs onto the tarmac. The sun had been out, and he'd felt how it immediately relaxed his shoulders. It was exactly what he needed, why he even booked the trip in the first place, he thought, slipping his sunglasses down from the top of his head onto his nose.

Sun. Warmth from up above that clung in the air that surrounded him.

Was nice.

Lovely.

He'd gotten what he'd thought was his suitcase from the conveyer belt no problem, finding it quickly. Then it only took a minute to wait for a taxi that took him to his hotel. He'd booked a room in the kind of place you didn't need to leave at all if you didn't really want to – nice hotel restaurant downstairs, nice hotel rooftop bar upstairs, big pool surrounded by sun loungers outside and a view of the beach just behind it. Not quite a resort, but, kind of a resort, if you asked his mum.

It was exactly what he'd needed. A few days away from the hustle and bustle of daily-life-sludge Joe felt he'd had a hard time wading through. Just a quick break to get his sun-starved skin some much needed vitamin D. Make the freckles that hid underneath his skin show up. It was the time of year when temperatures dropped fairly quickly once the sun went down, but the days were gorgeous still. The type of hot where you could sit in direct sunlight in the middle of the day without feeling like you were melting but still get tanned all over.

Joe should've felt lucky, because that was what he'd been announcing to the world a lot lately. "I feel very lucky," over and over until it caught up with him.

"Quick few days away will sort you out," his mum had told him over the phone, and mother's always knew best, didn't they?

So he'd just gone and booked it. Went, fuck it, this looks nice, I want to go there.

And now he was here.

He had five full days all to himself, travel days not included, in which he’d get to truly switch off a second. Enough time to listen to his favourite podcast for however long he wanted without being interrupted halfway through an episode. Enough time to finally get past page five of this book he’d started reading three times already. Enough time to work through his inbox at a leisurely pace. Have whichever drink whenever.

Joe was meant to feel all lucky.

It was just that... he'd just flung a suitcase onto his hotel bed that wasn't his, and... now what? The good bits felt all fucked up, the positive twisted, leaving him with just the negative frustrating shit.

Trip fucking ruined already, and he'd not even been there two hours.

All he had on him were his passport, his phone, a pair of wireless headphones that were running low on battery and his bank cards. He'd foregone bringing a backpack as carry-on, checking in his suitcase, and feeling very free as he'd walked through the TSA screening with barely anything on him.

Now he regretted every single decision he'd made that lead up to this moment.

Unbeknownst to him, you were just two floors up, in the same hotel, in a room that looked identical, also stood by your hotel bed. Difference was, you'd just opened what you thought was your suitcase, only to be met by a bunch of stuff that wasn't yours.

You didn't own anything pinstriped. Or, um, Dior.

You checked the code that you hadn't changed to open it – that wasn't what you'd set it as.

That wasn't your suitcase.

“Um, what the fuck?”

Whoever the suitcase belonged to had shut it but then hadn't run a thumb over the numbered wheels to make sure anyone without the right combination couldn't open it – an idiot, you thought.

And idiot with... very expensive clothes. Men's clothes.

For a moment far too long, you just looked at what was in front of you and processed what this meant.

You didn’t have your things.

Your stuff.

No dress to slip into. No bikini to wear underneath.

Shit.

You'd have to phone the airline, let them know you'd taken the wrong suitcase. Yours had probably been brought over to lost and found, the owner of this one probably hoping his would be there too. Except it wasn't. It was a 40-minute taxi ride removed from lost and found, up on the 11th floor of a nice beach hotel. With you.

Shit.

You looked down at your own top, the stains from the bottle of coke that had sprayed everywhere upon the first cap-twist still evident.

Fuck.

This first evening you'd booked a table downstairs for dinner, and then were planning on having drinks upstairs to really make sure you'd knock yourself out cold until at least 10.30am the next morning.

You threw an arm up and smelled an armpit.

Rank.

Yea, no way you were going to do those things in the outfit you currently had on.

"Hi, I have a question regarding baggage claim? Is there a service agent I can talk to? It appears I have taken the wrong suitcase by accident."

Joe sighed as he got put on hold for a minute, only to be told later to please return the suitcase to baggage claim. He hoped they'd be able to give him any other information that didn't involve him traveling back there. Also, maybe a little info on whether or not his suitcase had been left behind and was now in lost and found, or if someone else had taken it.

"Please find the baggage claim customer service desk, and we'll be able to help you locate your luggage from there."

All right. Fine.

Was he going to do that tonight? After just getting to the hotel, now hungry and tired and in need of some good food and a good night's sleep?

No.

Probably not the nicest thing, since, you know, someone else was likely also trying to track down what he was storing in his hotel room right now, but Joe had a dinner reservation for one he wanted to get to. Had scanned the menu online beforehand and was craving the steak tartare now. It just sucked he was going to have that in the same outfit he'd worn traveling there, as well as the rest of the night and the next morning.

Deep breaths, Joe. Big gulps of air. Take a step back. Zoom out a little.

In the grand scheme of things... this was just annoying. Not the end of the world.

He'd fetch a spare charger for his phone from the front desk, have his meal, have a nice drink, and do his very best not to think about all the things that frustrated him for the rest of the night.

But, that was easier said that done.

Especially when, halfway through dinner, a pretty girl walked in wearing what looked suspiciously similar to one of his shirts.

Nah.

Couldn't be.

He was probably just seeing things. Was just looking because she was pretty. Was too tired. Had one drink too many.

Was grumpy about the fact that the only charger the hotel had for him didn't fit the outlets here, and they didn't have a plug adapter for him to make it work.

Was more grumpy about the fact that you'd sat down in his direct line of sight. You know, since he couldn't just burrow himself into his phone for fear of the battery dying on him.

Was most grumpy that the shirt looked better on you than it did on him.

For fuck's sake.

And he wasn't even sure if he even packed that shirt at all!

For his own sanity, he convinced himself he didn’t pack it.

Lots of people had shirts like it. Faded orangey colour. Striped. The one he owned probably wasn't quite as pink as this one. Or maybe it was... but, even so, it could be the exact same one, still didn’t need to be his.

It was a little more difficult however, when upstairs at the bar, after the first sip of his gin martini, he saw you walk out in a jacket that he knew for a fact he’d packed.

That was his jacket.

Stop it, Joe thought. You've gone mad.

Just a coincidence.

Big coincidence, though... wasn't it?

“you’ve overworked me, i should get another week” he texted his agent, blaming the fact that he was seeing things on that, and received a “lol no” in return.

Joe was still annoyed the next morning when he climbed into a taxi, phone about to die any second now.

Had you been out the door about twenty seconds earlier, you'd have run into him.

Somehow, traffic turned the twenty seconds into over ten minutes. Joe was already standing by the baggage claim service desk, your suitcase on the floor next to him, patiently waiting as the lady behind the computer typed away with eyes stuck to a computer screen Joe couldn't see.

You walked up, eyes on your phone, occasionally looking up for signs that pointed you in the right direction. You didn't even notice Joe, or your suitcase on the floor next to him.

"At airport now, fingers crossed" you texted a friend, and got a quick, "it's there, it's GOT TO BE there" from her in response. It wasn't until the guy in front of you turned around, gave you a polite smile, and then did a double take for you to see it.

Your suitcase.

"My suitcase!"

"My jacket."

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

You were standing in front of the guy whose suitcase you'd gone through the night before. Whose suitcase you did your best to pack so it didn't look like you'd gone through every single thing that was in there. Whose pinstriped jacket you'd thrown on because it was the morning still, a little chilly for... just his T-shirt that you wore underneath.

You immediately forgot how to function as a normal humanbeing.

Error 404: cognitive function not found.

"Um, I–I..." you faltered, blood heating your cheeks, and you saw how the brow of stranger in front of you slowly furrowed as his eyes scanned down your body.

Fuck.

Now, you see, in your defence... you were left to your own devices, just, all alone in a hotel room, unsupervised, with a suitcase that was full of special, unknown things. Lots of treasures and, expensive designer clothing... how was anyone to expect you to be sensible and not snoop?

Of course you were going to be snooping.

You snooped.

Were a tried-and-true snooper.

It was just that... you hadn't just snooped, had you?

Hadn't just let your eyes roam.

You'd gotten your hands in there almost instantly.

You'd called a friend, and explained your situation, and had then switched the regular call to Facetime to go through the whole thing together. Toiletry bag and all. Every single item had passed your grip, and you'd tried on more items than you dared admitting to anyone – the boyfriend-fit of every single item had made you consider maybe just... keeping a shirt.

"Fuck me, that looks good on you. Keep it." your friend only egged you on.

"I can't keep it," you said, checking yourself in the mirror before asking your friend to google for prices, wanting to know how much this had cost the owner of the suitcase.

When she told you, you took a moment to let that sink in before you said, "Yea, maybe I should keep it."

That jacket, or perhaps the one pair of jeans. Claim you'd just found the suitcase like that. He'd left it unlocked, anyway.

"Look at this, this... this is clearly someone on a business trip, there's suits, but then, look, he's got two-in-one shampoo and conditioner in his toiletry bag," you held up the bottle close enough to your perched up phone to show it properly.

"Who takes shampoo on a business trip? Surely you just use whatever they have at the hotel?" your friend made a good point.

"Especially two-in-fucking-one," you tossed the bottle onto your bed, next to all the other shit you were fishing out. Razor, nail clippers, a moisturizer of which you didn't even recognise the brand - very fancy.

"Men are insane,"

"Even the rich ones, apparently,"

"Especially the rich ones."

It'd been a good half hour of giggles before you'd decided you were just going to wear one of his shirts to dinner. Why not? You could fold it up nicer than the way you'd found it in there. You'd be fine.

He just... he wasn't meant to actually see you in his clothes. You were wearing literal proof of what you were desperately wanting to hide.

How were you going to talk yourself out of this?

Were you just going to be honest?

Look at him.

Of course you weren't going to be honest. This man would've made you nervous even if you hadn't shown up in his literal clothes, revealing you'd not just opened the suitcase to see it wasn't yours - you'd gone through it and were now wearing what was his.

"Oh, excellent!" the lady behind the desk stood up and peered over the desk at the floor, at the two similar suitcases. "This will be a lot easier now," she stepped around with a little scanning device, scanned both labels that you, thank God, both hadn't touched. Imagine if you'd have ripped that off. You'd no idea what that would've meant, but surely it would have made the whole situation a lot more complicated.

You were contemplating pretending to be crazy. Or stupid. Just really, really, really stupid.

Shut the fuck up why did he not stop staring at you? Could he look away for just a second, maybe?

"I didn't mean to– I only opened it this morning, I didn't have anything to we–" you rambled, stumbled through little white lies and stopped when you saw the faintest little hint of amusement on Joe's face.

"Are you going to sue me?" you winced.

"No," his smile grew, but he held out a hand. For the jacket, you presumed.

"There, all settled." the baggage claim service agent smiled. "This one is yours, and this one is yours."

"Thank you," Joe smiled at her – she'd done her job. You saw it was just him being polite before his attention turned back to you.

"Um, I won't sue you. But I would like my clothes back..." his hand was still there and you realised that you fully understood the body language, but hadn't actually moved to take it off yet.

"Yes, of course! Sorry, I was– the plan was that I'd fetch my own suitcase from lost and found and then would change into my own stuff, and–" you squeezed your eyes shut, letting the jacket slide from your shoulders, knowing that you sounded absolutely insane. "You weren't meant to find out." you huffed a laugh, hoping that finding humour in the situation would make him copy it.

"Not exactly a water proof plan," Joe gave you a nod and looked at you a little apprehensively, head tilted down, as you handed over the jacket that he folded over his forearm.

"Well, had you not been here yet, I would've gotten off scot-free," you joked lightly, confidence creeping in a little as you raised your eyebrows at him just before kneeling down next to your suitcase and tipping it onto its side to open it.

"Ah," Joe nodded, all understanding, but his face quickly twisted in exaggerated confusion. "So... that wasn't you in my shirt last night?"

Your neck cracked with how fast it snapped to look back up at him. Deer in headlights, eyes wide in shock, blush deepening. Had you ever felt sweat prickling in your pits before?

"I–"

"And red jacket?"

Fucking fuck shit. You were such a fucking idiot.

"Red?" you focussed entirely on the wrong thing, but, what else was there to do in a panic? "No, t'was more of a brownish sort of–"

"Burgundy." Joe cut you off.

You looked at each other for a long moment where it took you a smidge too long to close the mouth you'd left hanging open.

My God.

You'd really worked yourself into a corner here, hadn't you?

"Is that... is that my T-shirt?"

It got worse fast, though.

You looked down to see for yourself, eyes still huge, and for what? To check if you were still wearing the black T-shirt? You knew you were wearing his T-shirt. It was why you'd opened your suitcase in the first place, to fetch something of your own to change into. To take into a toilet stall so you could give him back what belonged to him, and if you were quick, give it back without pit stains.

When you looked back up, you felt how the blush was now making your neck and chest break out in hives. There really wasn't a way out of this. Caught red-handed, you had no other choice but to surrender and admit to every single wrong choice you'd made. Not willing to speak the actual confession into existence, you let your arms move on their own accord and just... moved to take the T-shirt off. One of your arms disappeared into the T-shirt, out of the sleeve, and you were about to pull the whole thing over your head when you were stopped.

"No– no, stop, don't–" he laughed. Planted a hand on your shoulder – the one of which the arm was stuck inside the T-shirt now.

You stopped, listening to his instructions from your kneeled position on the floor.

Joe wasn't going to let you undress into just your bra in the middle of an airport. This was a weird beginning to his trip but, was it really that bad? He'd gotten his suitcase back. That was what he'd wished for ever since finding out he'd taken the wrong one, and now, it had been returned to him.

He'd gotten what he'd wished for.

So what if a pretty girl borrowed some of his clothes for a second? It probably only meant that some of it smelled nicer now. She looked like she felt bad enough about it, too.

No big deal.

"Are we staying at the same hotel?"

"I... I think so?" you sat unmoved.

"If you could leave that at the front desk, I'll just... it's fine, I'll pick it up there," the frown that graced this man's features earlier seemingly had been sarcastic. Or, he'd just turned friendly. Either way, everything about his face told you not to worry about it.

Well, tough. Fuck him. You were worrying. This was so awkward.

You very slowly moved your arm back into the sleeve of the T-shirt and then moved to close your suitcase.

"Okay," your voice had never sounded thicker with hesitation.

"Okay?" Joe laughed.

"Yea," you sighed. "Yea, all right. I'm sorry." you winced as you clicked your suitcase shut and got back up onto your feet.

"It's fine." Joe waved a hand, dismissing the whole thing. You thought that was just to make you feel more comfortable, because you were very clearly going through it. For good reason. Had you been in his shoes, you would've told yourself off for the shit you'd pulled.

"Looks better on you, anyway,"

And like you weren't red in the face enough already, the snort laugh that escaped you turned you purple whilst simultaneously breaking any and all tension.

---

The Taglisted

@adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #icallhimjoey #lost & found #lost and found

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perotovar · 2 months

Text

baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 1) "session one"

gif by me

pairing: joel miller/dieter bravo (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel) rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 3.5k content: swearing, joel and tommy's southern accents being cute af, dieter being a menace, joel being awkward af (but it's cute), cringey porn dialogue, male masturbation (briefly), one (1) handjob, one (1) blowjob (it's messy), lmk if i missed anything! dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)

summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~

(read this first ->) prologue | series masterlist

Joel never would have guessed he’d do something like this ten years ago. Hell, not even five years ago. He’s not even totally sure how he got here, if he’s honest with himself.

He just remembers an, admittedly shady, business-looking man coming up to him and shoving a business card in his face. He asked if Joel had ever slept with men before. Joel was taken aback and thought he was coming onto him in a really bizarre way. He had, but that was none of this man’s business as far as he was concerned.

“There’s no pressure, I promise. Here, my website is on the card. If you see what you like, you gimme a call, okay?” The man had winked, grabbed his coffee, and left.

Joel was left sitting in the middle of that coffee shop stunned into silence.

Later that night, sitting in front of the laptop Sarah nearly forced on him, he clumsily typed (using only his index fingers) the name of the website from the business card into the search bar.

Love Bites

The name and the man, Max Phillips according to the card, and his invasive question should’ve told him everything he needed to know, but Joel wasn’t prepared for the absolute onslaught of nudity he was met with.

“Jesus–” Joel mumbled to himself, slamming the laptop closed. Not that that would take it away, but he could hope. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head to himself. “The fuck you get yourself into, Miller?” He grumbled.

Slowly, and with one eye closed, he opened his laptop again. Once he got both eyes on it again, the website wasn’t… too bad. Well, it was still a porn site, but it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before. He started looking around some more and didn’t bother turning it down. He lived alone now, both girls having moved out within the last year or so. He missed the hell out of them, and frankly, found himself bored more often than not. He and Tommy still owned Miller Contracting, but Joel stuck to the delegating and organizing part now. He had too many knee and back problems to keep up on the actual building part.

His finger rolled over to the “profiles” section of the website. He raised a brow and clicked on the trackpad hesitantly. There were several headshots of the men that made content for the website. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and cleared his throat awkwardly, exhaling heavily. Well, it… had been a while. What could it hurt, right?

He did have a lot of options…

Dark eyes trailing over the men on the site, he smiled softly. They all had little biographies that explained what their sexualities and preferences were. He snorted a little at seeing two different cowboys; one gay and a little older than himself, the other bisexual and perhaps around the same age. The younger cowboy had a prominent mustache and had a preference for “tying people up”. Bit on the nose in Joel’s opinion, but there was something for everyone. The older cowboy tended toward more amateur-style, “romantic” videos. Joel’s heart softened a little, but decided he wasn’t really in the mood for that sort of thing.

In his search, he found just about everything; a messy haired, self proclaimed “adventurous” sort, a masked man that liked to roleplay, a clean cut looking man that considered himself a “romantic”. You name it, they probably had it. But his eyes landed on a particular man…

He had deep, intense eyes and a thick mustache. His hair was styled like he walked out of the 80s and he was wearing a thin gold chain. He had a bit of a Burt Reynolds thing going on, and normally that wouldn’t be something Joel was into, but this time, well…

Joel clicked on his – Javier’s – page and started browsing the videos he had available. His bio said he was “fluid and polyamorous”, but Joel didn’t know what that meant. Wow, he was… popular. That didn’t surprise Joel at all, but his eyes landed on one of Javier’s “solo” videos. It looked like it was filmed in his apartment, but it probably wasn’t from how well lit it was. The video started off like Joel guessed all of them did; a fancy graphic with the words “Love Bites” in the center of the screen before the sound effect of someone taking a bite out of something, and a faint moan. The tips of Joel’s ears warmed, but he pressed on, watching Javier walk onto screen and sit in the middle of the couch that was in frame.

Javier’s jeans were very tight, but maybe even moreso because of how fucking hard he looked to be. Joel swallowed a lump in his throat, his cock twitching again. Javier had an easy smirk on his handsome face, but he seemed like he didn’t have the cockiness that Joel expected a pornstar to have. The video seemed like it was personally sent to Joel and that thought made Joel’s cock stand to attention almost comically quickly. Unzipping his own jeans, he groaned at the constriction leaving, allowing him to breathe easier. He squeezed his cock and looked back at the video, Javier already getting started without him. He was stroking his own cock slowly, almost teasingly, biting a plump bottom lip. Joel moaned and shut his eyes for a quick second as he took himself in hand–

Ring, ring.

Joel groaned, squeezing his cock harder, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Tommy. He sighed and paused the video on Javier’s blissed out face and big hand wrapped around his–

Ring, ring.

“Christ, Tommy, what is it?” He grumbled, pressing the too-new-for-his-liking phone to his ear.

“Jesus, who pissed in your oatmeal this mornin’?” Tommy’s easy voice filtered in, a chuckle wrapped around his words. “And why are ya outta breath? Ya okay?”

“What–? Yeah, ‘m fine, Tommy. Why y’callin’?”

“Wonderin’ if ya could stop by tonight. Maria’s makin’ meatloaf and I know ya like it.”

Joel did really like Maria’s meatloaf. He sighed to himself and shut his laptop, his cock having softened considerably since hearing his brother’s voice. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to subtly zip up his jeans while he held the phone against his shoulder. “I’ll come over in a little bit, just gotta… gonna make a phone call.”

“Ooh, ya finally have a date, old man?”

“Can it,” Joel grunted. “‘M forty-three. Ain’t that old. And no, I was gonna call Sarah. See how her classes are goin’.”

“Send her our love, will ya? ‘N tell her she’ll have a cousin soon. Maria’s ‘bout to pop any day. ‘M scared to death,” Tommy sighed. The happiness was clear in his voice, though. Joel was happy for him, and smiled to himself. “How’s Ellie doin’, by the way?”

“Good. Think she said somethin’ ‘bout joinin’ a… roller derby team? Don’t rightly know, but,” he shrugged to himself. “Sounded like somethin’ she’d like, way she was describin’ it.”

Talking on the phone with Tommy always went the same way. He’d find a way to chew up a couple hours of your time, but Joel never minded. Once they said their goodbyes and their I-love-yous, Joel picked up Max Phillips’ business card and sighed, rubbing his thumb over the phone number.

What could it hurt, right?

That was two years ago. He’s been working for Love Bites for two years and had been avoiding Javier Peña as much as he could.

Joel’s never been good at… initiating conversations. Ellie would always give him shit for it. She usually went up to whoever had caught Joel’s eye and slyly made it her goal to get them to come over to him.

But Ellie wasn’t here and she never would be. His girls knew what he did and even if they were a little concerned for him at first, they saw how much happier he’d been since joining. He was healthier, gaining a bit of “chub” as Sarah called it, and a healthier glow to his skin. He was on camera more often now, so he had to eat well and work out a little more. He didn’t do anything too crazy, and the audience that watched his videos had a lot of positive opinions and comments about his physique. It made him blush to think about it for too long, so he tried not to.

What was he saying?

Oh, right. Avoiding Javier Peña.

He’d had a huge crush on him ever since that first video he watched, and frankly, didn’t want to make a fool of himself if he talked to him. He’s filmed one video with him and it was the best Joel had felt in years. He almost came too quickly, and the video was supposed to be twenty minutes long. They had to pause so Joel could calm himself down, but Javier was patient and lovely with him. Javier had been doing this a lot longer than Joel had, so he wasn’t worried, which made Joel feel better. Just a little embarrassed. Afterwards, he had to leave, making up a story about seeing his girls for dinner that night.

“Javi!”

Joel’s eyes snapped up from his phone. He was in the middle of texting Sarah, saying that he’d call her when he got home from work. He had a scene with Dieter today.

And there he was. God. Joel’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Javier standing in the hall in his robe. He must’ve just finished his scene with Shane, the new kid. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sound of Javier’s deep, commanding voice was enough to send a chill down Joel’s spine. Before he knew it, Javier was talking animatedly with Steve, another actor, as they walked off down the hall and disappearing around a corner.

He knew, realistically, relationships between porn actors could happen. Silva and Jake had been together for years. Joel’s problem with that was, well… Joel. His last real relationship was with Sarah’s mom years ago, and when the girls were in high school he had a relationship with this guy, Ezra for a while.

Smack!

“Jesus–!” Joel jumped, holding onto one of his ass cheeks protectively. Only one person would have done that.

“Hey, handsome,” Dieter grinned, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Joel’s jeans and squeezing. “Getting lost in Javi’s eyes again?” He winked.

“N-no! I am not,” Joel grumbled, finishing off his text and shoving his phone in his pocket.

Dieter snorted and rolled his eyes, then removed his hand to hold it out for Joel to take. “C’mon, big guy. You get to cum on my face today,” he smirked.

Filming with Dieter always felt good. He was a bit wild for Joel’s personal tastes, but he always made sure Joel was comfortable, and today was no different.

Joel was playing a “plumber” that needed to work on Dieter’s “pipes”. This of course led to Dieter offering to “pay” in his own way.

“Oh, come on, big guy like you doesn’t need money, right?” Dieter recited his lines expertly, running a hand down Joel’s t-shirt covered chest. “Bet it gets lonely doing this sort of work, huh?”

Joel had gotten a lot better at the acting part of things over the past couple of years. He was super stiff (and not in the right way) in the beginning, but now, he easily plastered on a smirk, eyes glued to Dieter’s lips. “Sometimes,” he shrugged, a big hand hovering over Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter saw the hand out of the corner of his eye and grinned, curling his fingers around Joel’s thick wrist and moving it down to his ass.

Joel smirked, squeezing the plump flesh appreciatively. “Bit forward o’ you,” he rumbled.

Dieter visibly shivered and bit his lip. “Sexy guy like you, of course I am,” he breathed. He leaned forward and kissed Joel messily, the hand on Joel’s torso moving down to unzip his jeans. Joel was already painfully hard and grunted into Dieter’s mouth when his pants were opened and lowered enough to pull his cock free. Dieter moaned and curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft, pumping rhythmically.

They stayed like that for a while; open mouth kisses, heavy breathing from Joel, and Dieter’s moans being picked up by the mics.

Dieter pulled away to look down at the thick cock in his hand and bit his lip at the sight. “Fuck,” he groaned, his own cock twitching in his sweats. “Can I suck your cock?” He looked up at Joel demurely, eyes big and nearly black with desire.

Joel forgot he was supposed to be acting for a minute and grunted, hips bucking into Dieter’s grasp. “F-fuck, yeah,” he nodded, eyes glazed over. Dieter smiled and guided Joel over to the couch on the set. Technically, Dieter was supposed to get on his knees in the “kitchen”, but he knew Joel wouldn’t be able to stand for that long with his back problems. Sometimes Dieter’s improv classes came in handy. Max couldn’t complain too much, as long as Dieter sucked Joel off, then the video was still following the script.

Joel grunted as he sat, hard cock swaying slightly. Dieter giggled a little and happily got down on his knees, hands traveling up and down Joel’s thighs appreciatively. “Such a pretty cock,” he hummed, licking his lips as he watched it twitch in front of him, a drop of pre-cum gathering at the tip.

“Why dontcha put that mouth to use, then?” Joel smirked, gripping the base and tapping the head against Dieter’s cheek. “Want your discount, right?”

Dieter smiled and opened his mouth wide, eyes shut in pure bliss. Joel gripped Dieter’s messy curls and held him still as he hit the head of his cock against Dieter’s tongue. Dieter moaned and opened his eyes, watching Joel’s face for any cues to stop. They never came, but it was something they all had to keep an eye on. When everything seemed to be going well, he happily wrapped his mouth around the head of Joel’s cock and started bobbing his head up and down.

He moaned, the vibrations traveling down Joel’s cock and up his spine, making Joel groan in return. “Mmm, knew you’d be good with your mouth,” he grinned, holding the back of Dieter’s head to set a pace Joel liked better.

Dieter heard a cameraman move to his right to get a better angle of his mouth, so he amped it up a little. He got messier, saliva dripping down along the sides of Joel’s shaft. Joel moaned weakly, resting his head on the back of the couch, but keeping one of his hands tangled in Dieter’s messy curls. Dieter started bobbing his head slower, eyes locked on Joel’s face as he moved further down his shaft, taking as much as he could down his throat. He choked slightly and pulled off, pre-cum and saliva covering his mouth and Joel’s cock. He smiled up at Joel and panted heavily, curling his fingers around the base to pump the thick cock.

Joel’s eyes rolled back and he grunted, hips bucking off the couch. “C’mere,” he breathed, heavy work boots landing heavily on the set floor as he stood. “Gonna fuck your face.”

Dieter shivered at the low timbre of Joel’s voice and nodded happily up at him. He pulled his sweats down and gripped his own cock in hand and started stroking himself rhythmically. Dieter opened his mouth for Joel obediently and nearly choked again when Joel shoved his cock down Dieter’s throat. He moaned weakly when Joel’s hips started moving, his heavy balls slapping against Dieter’s chin.

Dieter just had to take it, the lewd sounds of Joel fucking his face filling the otherwise quiet room. He fucking loved it because Joel was subtly massaging Dieter’s scalp and it sent shivers down his spine. His fist was almost a blur over his own cock and tears leaked out of his eyes, a blush high on his cheeks.

“Mmm, bein’ such a good boy f’me,” Joel grunted, biting his lip to rein it in a little. Dieter moaned at the praise, eyebrows downturned in pleasure. “Yeah? Like bein’ my good boy?”

Dieter whined and nodded as best he could, eyes completely glazed over. Joel slowed down his hips a little and let Dieter breathe for a minute. Dieter panted hard, a near-dopey smile on his face. “Come on my face,” he breathed heavily, extending his tongue for Joel. “Please.”

It was Joel’s turn to shiver as he slapped the head of his cock against Dieter’s face again. “Gonna have to earn it,” Joel smirked, reciting his lines as well as he could.

Dieter whined and pouted up at him, his own hand slowing down a little. He didn’t say anything, letting Joel continue.

“Make me come, and I’ll paint this pretty face o’ yours.”

Dieter’s face lit up and he curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft. He watched Joel’s face while he wrapped his lips around the head and bobbed his head. His free hand held Joel’s hip and subtly moved to his ass and squeezed. He moaned around Joel’s cock and shut his eyes briefly before obediently looking up at him, big eyes wet and innocent.

“Atta boy,” Joel grunted, cupping Dieter’s face lovingly. Dieter removed his mouth to kiss down his length as he stroked him, attaching his lips to one of Joel’s balls. “Mmm, fuck,” Joel breathed, tipping his head back.

The hand on Joel’s ass moved slightly until one of Dieter’s fingertips prodded at Joel’s asshole. Joel grunted in surprise and smiled down at Dieter. “Really want me all over ya, huh?”

“Yes,” Dieter nodded, sucking one of Joel’s balls into his mouth. “Please.”

“Keep talkin’ like that and– ooh, fuck – Jus’ might get your wish,” Joel panted, shutting his eyes. He felt the build up in his lower stomach, his cock twitching violently in Dieter’s hand. “C’mere, baby boy,” he grinned, taking his cock back to stroke himself over Dieter’s face.

Dieter was buzzing, lifting Joel’s t-shirt to lovingly caress his hairy tummy, mouth open wide and obedient.

Joel felt his balls draw up and his hips buck until– “Fuck–! Shit,�� He moaned, thick ropes of come spurting out from the tip of his cock and landing on Dieter’s face and mouth. He caressed Dieter’s hair, thick fingers massaging his scalp while the other hand stroked himself until his balls were completely empty.

Dieter happily licked his mouth clean, and hid his face in Joel’s stomach, whimpering into the sweaty skin. He moaned weakly, his entire body trembling as he came, completely untouched. Dieter was the only one in the cast that could do that, and he loved showing it off as much as he could.

“Shit,” Joel smiled, petting Dieter’s sweaty curls back and out of his face. “Ain’t you a sight.”

“Cut!”

Dieter deflated, a huge grin on his face. He started giggling into Joel’s stomach and smiled up at him. “Fucking love your cock, Joel,” he hummed happily.

“That’s what you always say,” Joel snorted, helping him up onto his feet. Dieter was a little wobbly still and cuddled into Joel’s side. He always got a little clingy after a scene, but Joel didn’t mind. As different as they were, Joel would probably consider Dieter one of his closest friends. It always worked in their favor, their natural chemistry and closeness coming through the cameras.

They were handed a couple towels and some water, the both of them taking them gratefully. Max came up to them, his usual shit-eating grin on his face. Joel always thought Max reminded him of a vampire, with that mischievous glint in his eye that always seemed to be there.

“Great show, boys,” Max started. “Dieter, d’you mind if I steal Joel away for a second?”

Dieter whined and clinged onto Joel tighter. Joel grinned and hugged him back. “Sorry, boss, looks like he ain’t leavin’ anytime soon.”

Max rolled his eyes, but continued anyway. “Fine. Meant to tell you earlier, but things got rolling, you know how it is–”

“What is it, Max?”

“You’ve got a scene with Javier tomorrow.”

If there were a record player anywhere, Joel would probably hear it scratching right about now. Dieter paused too, and looked up at Joel with worried eyes. He knew all about Joel’s crush, and was always telling Joel to just go for it. Joel froze briefly, but tried to school his emotions as best he could.

“O-okay, um. What time?” He asked shakily, gripping Dieter’s fluffy robe tighter.

“I’m thinking around noon? That way Javier can prepare, y’know?”

Preparing was always done before a particularly intense scene. Joel tried really hard not to think about Javier wearing a plug for a while before coming to set.

“Right,” Joel nodded, cheeks going a little pink. “I’ll be there.”

“You’re the best, Joel!” Max snapped his fingers and walked off, talking to a couple of assistants.

Dieter tapped on his chest and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You really gotta say something, Joel,” he said softly.

Joel sighed and nodded. He knew that.

He just didn’t know what.

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

reciprocate ✴︎ mv1

genre: 18+, pwp, very very filthy, fem!reader

word count: 4.5k

You have trouble maintaining your vow of Max celibacy when you’re on vacation together. (part 1 here)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because… sexual tension like tons, dirty talk, masturbating, descriptions of sex, kissing, SEXUAL TENSION.

hope you like it everyone! :) req’d and i was gonna make this a drabble, but it kinda grew. kind of gives way for a part 3, so lmk if u would wanna read thaaat...?

You’re bored more than several times over the dry, chilly stretch of winter break.

With not much to do, you’ve taken to traveling before you settle back into reporting on what different teams are doing to prepare for March. It’s all car prep, helmet design, new advancements, some drama on budget breaches. But that all comes in the condensed end of February, so now you’re wandering around, aimless.

The invite comes after Christmas and before New Year’s. It’s also last minute, and you would’ve normally rejected it, but Lissie had managed to convince you despite yourself, so you text Daniel a thumbs-up, greenlighting his proposition to jet off to Monaco.

“I’m starting to think I should’ve just said no,” you mutter, dumping a bundle of clothes into your suitcase. Across you, equally busy, Lissie scoffs.

She looks up from where she’s busy folding something, then, “In what universe would anybody want to pass up on a free Monaco trip where we can spend the entire week drinking our body weight in cocktails and swimming it off?”

You laugh, nodding in semi-agreement. It’s not Monaco, you want to tell her. It’s because everybody’s going, even Max. “You’re right,” you say instead, making a show of being excited.

It didn’t seem the slighest bit sane to be going on a non-work trip where Max was going to be around. Your first tryst, barely a month ago, before the grand prix in Abu Dhabi, had given way to three days straight of retiring to his room, foregoing afterparties, and then, after deciding to go to one, sneaking back off and fucking in his room after just an hour of dancing.

Max is just as insatiable as you are, and it scares you—because it took every ounce of resistance from you to sit him down and affirm the statement that the constant sex was a bad idea. Outside of his room, outside his bed, you two still maintained the same caustic relationship, but the sex became like clockwork, and you could tell it wasn’t the best idea.

“We need to stop the sex,” you’d said, setting it down firmly. “It’s—it’s getting in the way of work.”

“It really isn’t. You still have no problem calling me out after races and then getting fucked less than an hour later,” he said.

“I’m serious, it is. And if not now, it will.”

He’d shrugged. “Fine.”

“It’ll be easy,” you’d said sharply. “For me, at least.”

It feels like cosmic karma, then, when you’re told by Lissie that Max’s room is beside yours.

—

Almost funnily, Max’s is the first face you see after you’ve settled in your hotel room. You see him first, and then notice he’s joined by Daniel and Lando, at the bar near the beach where everyone else in your little group is hanging out. You make eye contact that you tear away from instantly, willing yourself to ignore him.

Daniel notices you first when you show up to order yourself a drink. “Swam yet?”

“Nope,” you say. “Think I’ll join the girls and tan today.”

“Just glad you finally accepted the invite,” Daniel comments. “Lissie told me you almost bailed for some weird reason.”

Your eyes dart over to Max, who’s drinking whiskey. He’s already looking at you, gaze cutting. You clear your throat and look away. “I thought it wouldn’t be the best idea, but I’m about three drinks away from loving it here.”

The small talk continues, and you even get your drink, but eventually Daniel and Lando are too enticed by the sunset water, running off and yanking their shirts off on the way. You shuffle nervously on the barstool, just two seats apart from Max.

“You’re here the whole week?” He asks, not looking at you.

“I am,” you say, leveling his tone of nonchalance.

He makes a noise of petty disapproval, leaning back. From where you sit, you get fleeting glimpses of how he looks, and it isn’t helping your vow of celibacy. He’s big, which, while you knew this, still sends a throb of arousal through you. The tight tee he wears does nothing to hide what’s underneath, and his arms give you the impression that he could just throw you onto a bed or slam you against a wall like it’s nothing.

(Two things you could personally attest to, but that’s besides the point.) You’ve only just begun to get used to not having sex with him, but you’re starting to think you should get on the next flight off, because the thoughts creeping into your head of his hands, his tongue—

A cry of your name grabs your attention, and you blink, turning your head. Farther up the beach, Lissie and Lily are waving their hands around, calling you. “Let’s swim!” Lissie orders. “Now!”

“Bit busy there, were you?” Max asks, smirking.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, downing the rest of your cocktail and jogging over to your friends. Absently, you hear him chirp another teasing remark behind you—hope you drown. The abrasive remark lets the remainder of your scandalous thoughts filter out for the time being. You’re positive, though, that they won’t be gone for the whole two weeks.

You stop in front of Lissie to undo the clip in your hair when Lily asks nonchalantly: “Why’s Max staring at your ass?”

“Lil, oh m—” You swat her playfully. “Don’t just say things like that!”

“Sorry! Jesus. It was a serious inquiry. Guy’s eyes are glued. Don’t you hate each other?”

You resist the urge to turn around and maybe get in a dig of your own, but clear your throat and shrug. “You’re hallucinating. I’m sure he’ll have some random girl in his hotel room later tonight, anyway.”

You don’t miss the way Lily’s face is still etched with lack of conviction, but you tug her toward the beach anyway, splashing around and playing frisbee with the Daniel, Charles, and Lando. At some point, talk of clubbing arises through the six of you, and at Lando’s insistence, you all agree to meet up somewhere to get hammered later. A warm Monegasque welcome, Charles had dubbed it.

A sluice of nerves slide across you when you hear Charles relay the idea to Max, and the latter reply with a fuck yes count me in.

You learn a few short hours later that Monaco lives up to its predestined reputation as a nightlife beast, greeting you with vigor and sophistication. You’d been here before, but mostly for work—the immense drinking, dancing, and occasional drug is still a novel experience. Evidently, though, the drivers have little trouble settling into it, accepting and ordering shots and extravagant bottles like they’re nothing.

You’re off work, you figure, and you have no concrete responsibilites tied you as of the moment, so why not join in?

Lissie is drunkenly slurring something into your ear, about how some guy is flirting with her but he’s a 6 at best and maybe I should just make out with him to make him feel better hey wait maybe he’s an 8 actually no 9, maybe 9.5 max—no he’s a 10 I’m fucking him bye, and Lily is pissed, likely being taken care of by Alex.

Charles had upheld a promise to remain sober, but said nothing of bringing a girl home, which he’d successfully pulled off just twenty minutes ago. Lando’s obviously busy spinning the tunes at the DJ booth behind you, howling with excitement every time he plays something he likes. Which, you realize, leaves you with Daniel.

You fix the hem of your tiny dress, throwing back another shot. Your tolerance doesn’t allow for alcohol to permeate fast; it goes slowly, and never results in too much of a headache, thank the Lord. You’re pleasantly buzzed, but you want more courage, more gravitas. A timely wish, considering you haven’t quite learned how much of a party monster Daniel is.

He leans in closer. “I bet you three shots of vodka you’re not kissing someone tonight.”

“I’ll take the opposing side,” you say, laughing. “Nobody here is doing it for me.”

“A gentleman’s agreement!” He hollers, waving a passing waiter over and ordering shots for people to share.

Although you’re in a roped off area of the club, there are still people walking around and crowding the area, including a girl who’s seated on Daniel’s lap. She whispers something mumbled and low into his ear, and you roll your eyes at his equally flirty response, pinching her thigh and kissing her neck.

He turns back to you after, like it’s a casual conversation. “How can nobody ‘do it for you’ in a Monaco nightclub, man?”

There’s a question you can answer, but woefully won’t. You change the subject instead, cupping two shots. “How about you and I just do three shots each?”

“Make it four,” he says challengingly. “And take a hit.”

“Already did, Danny,” you refute. You’d smoked half a joint before drinking anything, not wanting to get too caught up in the crossfade. You’re half sure somebody in the group took molly, but your mouth is zipped all the same. “Come on, four shots.”

“Up, up,” he pauses, thinking. “Two shots of Patron vodka—and two of Clase Azul.”

Agreeing, you search for the liquor on the lit-up table, throwing the vodka back with relative ease and then standing up to do the last two. You stumble when you place the glasses back on the table, shaking hands with Daniel and moving about to shake off the alcoholic taste in your mouth.

You pass by Lando, and he flips you off from his place at the DJ booth, but eventually you meander your way to the bar instead, wedging yourself into an empty alcove that only houses a storage room door. It’s quieter, and here you can start to feel the alcohol in your system. You lean back against the wall, and just as you wished, a guy eventually approaches you.

He’s cute(ish), tall(ish), and charming(ish), and even in your hazy mind he registers as passable and definitely way too drunk and overconfident to be approaching somebody as hot as you. His arm wraps around you, toys with the flimsy strap of the minidress you’d worn today. His accent is clearly touristy and American when he asks, “What, bored tonight?”

“Little bit,” you say lowly, leaning back and letting your lips curl up into a smile. “Nothing is really exciting.”

He hums drunkenly. “I could be exciting. Show you something exciting.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say, playing into him. “Tell me more.”

“I could tell you lots of things in my hotel room.” He smiles. “Don’t you want to have fun?”

“She’s had plenty, mate,” a voice unmistakably Dutch says, and pride wells up in you for having had your plan succeed so beautifully. You blink, reaching an arm out to gently push the guy out of the way—and meet eyes with the one behind him. Taller, broader, and evidently more sober than either of you, Max looks pissed (more than usual, at least.) “Piss off.”

“Christ, had I known she had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t’ve approached, man. Let’s all be calm.”

Max waves him off dismissively and approaches you, a glint of concern shadowing the irritance in his eyes. “This some kind of plan of yours?”

The alcohol has begun to rush through you. You’re hot, flushed all over, thinking of all the times you’d been in this position, purposely testing Max’s limits so he could test yours, albeit differently.

“Dunno what you mean,” you say. Your gaze slips downward, to the big, rough hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey. You want them on you. Then they meet his again.

“Sure,” he says, unconvinced. “You’re having a lot of fun prancing around like you’ve no responsibilities.”

“Lighten up,” you insist boredly. “It’s called a vacation. It’s for letting loose.”

“Are you letting loose enough?” He asks, suggestive.

“Max.” You lean forward, and the movement lets him see more of your chest, or what your dress allows. He coughs.

“No.” But despite himself, he’s leaning downward, too, his gaze stuck on your lips. “You told me yourself. It gets in the way of work.”

“This isn’t work,” you say, nerves hammering through you.

“Been looking after you all night, it might as well be.” His voice is cold and serious. He steps forward, effectively caging you against the wall with how bulky his frame is. “You need to be careful. I had to pry that asshole off of you.”

“What if…” You trail off, tilting your head back so you’re making searing, unbreaking eye contact. “That’s exactly what I wanted?”

You’re both frozen in place, staring up at him with the kind of coy you only get when you’re tipsy like this. Wide eyed, lip bitten, and dress riding up—this is exactly how Max likes you. Ready for him to wreck. One jerk of his knee in between your legs and you’re his. He considers other options: a light grip around your neck, or even just a hand on your waist would render you weak, too.

“You test me too much, Y/L/N.” You feel hazy from the way he says your name, in the way he always does—formal, professional, like you’re in the paddock interviewing him again. You can feel yourself growing wet.

But you’d gotten yourself into this mess. You wore this dress, took those shots, let that guy flirt with you in hopes that Max would come over and give you his time of day. Deny as you might, you know deep down this is exactly what you were waiting for. You press a palm to his stomach, feeling the hard surface there, fisting it in his shirt.

He grunts, lets his hand cover yours. “Schatz,” he says, guttural.

He lets your lips meet, but when you lean in for a proper kiss, he stands back up to his full height. One look in your eyes lets him realize you’re sufficiently sober, and he turns and walks away.

—

A volleyball hits your shoulder for the third time today.

Prior to that, it’d hit your forehead twice, putting an effective end to your beach volleyball winning streak. Beside you, Lando lets out a strangled cry of defeat.

“The volleyball legend is tapping out!” Daniel hoots from a nearby lawn chair, mimicking the racing commentators you’re all familiar with.

“Piss off,” you say. “I’m off my game, too tired.”

You wave a dismissive hand to Lily and Alex and they flash thumbs up signs. You squeeze a bottle of water into your mouth, needing release from the thoughts plaguing your mind. The events of two nights ago weigh terribly heavy, annoyingly so, on your mind.

Not Max himself, you argue. His voice. His touch. They’re so irresistible to you. The way he’d grunted out the pet name he reserved for sex, the way his hand was so much rougher, bigger than yours.

Absently, you wonder, if he hadn’t stopped it—what would’ve happened then? He must’ve been resisting his strongest demons to put an end to the flirting like that. Any other time, you think, it would’ve gone differently.

He’d crowd you against the wall, press hot, whiskey-flavored kisses to your neck. He’d drop his glass, uncaring if it shattered; he could pay for fifty of those and then some. You picture his big hands roughly feeling you up, pressing against your panties, asking if you wore them just for him. Mumbling about wanting to taste you, get on his knees and have your pussy right here, for his tongue only. You picture his fingers, nimble, yanking away the lace and pushing into your cunt, kissing your jaw, moving, moving, until you’re fully in an open-mouthed kiss, messy and dirty, just how he likes you. He’d say something mean. Do you enjoy being a slut, letting all these people watch me take care of you? You’d nod. It’s true, you do, humping his fingers and chasing release. You picture his dick, hard and thick, big like the rest of him, pressed against your bare thigh, and—

“Your gelato!” Lissie hollers crankily, waving a cone of coffee ice cream in front of you that’s begun to melt and stick to her fingers.

“Thinking of sum’in, mate?” Lando’s amused, sunglasses-clad face comes into view.

You flip him off and apologize to Lissie, attempting to enjoy your ice cream before you descend into a state of craziness. The beach day passes with additional moments of blank stares, though none to a worrying degree. Most of your friends chalk it up to you waking up late or spacing out thinking of work, thankfully.

But, at least, you think. At least this just proves that you and Max can stick to your vow of celibacy. Right?

—

Max is never usually one to eavesdrop, but when he learned from Lily earlier in the week that your room was adjacent to his, he couldn’t help but become more conscious of it. Two days of silence, the occasional TV noise, and some stumbling provide nothing, so he’s since stopped paying attention. Between you two, you’re the one always out on the shore anyway, so there’s nothing much for him to listen to.

Tonight is different.

You don’t usually make noise—and he’s generally speaking here. You’re not a loud person. Even with the aid of a mic, your voice is composed, on the edge of quiet, during paddock reports. So why can he hear you so clearly now? The walls are a bit thin, sure, but something else contributes to it.

Something else, like maybe you’re doing all this on purpose.

The shuffling on the other side of the wall grows louder, then he hears your faint, breathy whimpers. He pauses, sitting a bit more upright on his bed, curiosity piqued, anticipates something else. Your whimpers grow louder, passing through the walls with relative ease.

He could totally tune this out, maybe put on a movie, hell, leave the room for a late night walk or a drink somewhere.

But he’s rooted to his spot, listening intently, wanting to hear more of you. He hears it then, so breathy at first he almost doesn��t. Max.

Your moan. He blinks, feeling himself grow hard. Maybe he didn’t hear it right, but then he hears it again: Oh, Max. Please. Wanna, wanna—

He palms at his dick through his sweats, swearing under his breath. You sound exactly like you do when you’re underneath him, two lithe hands wrapped around his wrist, begging for release, for his tongue, for his fingers. You’d been so sure, so high and mighty when you sat him down and demanded the sex stop, but here you are fucking yourself on your fingers, moaning his name.

Barely even ashamed, he tugs his dick out, already drooling with precum. He uses it to ease the glide of jerking off. Max, you say again, louder this time, higher. He remembers your conversation clearly, your solemn voice when you told him you couldn’t ever have sex again with the way it interfered with your jobs. The way you slid in a snide remark about how it’d be an easy challenge for you.

He can’t help but be amused, fucking his fist and listening to your moans, growing in volume as you near your climax. He wants to ask if your fingers are as good as his, as his tongue, his cock. He knows you’ll say yes but think the opposite. You’ve always grown so weak around him.

Gonna cum, he hears again.

He pictures you writhing on your bed, eyes rolling back, fist half-bitten to try and silence yourself. Your thighs are probably shaking, brows knitted together, tongue lolling out—he jerks himself faster, panting, chest sweaty. It’s your last, loud moans that send him over the edge.

I’m cumming, Maxie, fuck—! He swears under his breath, cum spurting out all over his fist. He catches his breath, pursing his lips, squeezing his eyes shut. Tries to purge himself of his thoughts of how you might look right now and retreats into his bathroom.

It doesn’t work.

—

Lando personal phone 30s ago

Lissie wants her own bacardi and could you get doritos too x

And a box of condoms pls mate xx

“One more Bacardi and a bag of Doritos,” you dictate boredly. Who knew a high profile, all expenses paid vacation in one of the richest countries in the world would still entail the mandatory grocery run? “…And condoms.”

Max turns from where he’d retrieved the rum, a brow raised in question. “Sorry?”

“Lando, not me,” you defend, holding two hands up. You two had been the unlucky pair who drew short straws and were thus stuck with a long list of niche items in an empty convenience store not far from your hotel. Outside, the sun’s already gone, leaving behind traces of orange in an otherwise dark sky. The group had decided to stay nearby and drink instead of going out tonight, since you’d all been at a club basically every other night anyway.

You review each of your baskets. “Seems like this is all,” you conclude, “except the condoms, which we’ll get at the counter.”

“Did Lando specify a… brand?” Max asks, pacing to the cashier. There are already some on display, with varying features and sizes.

You recheck your phone. “Nope. Just get anything.”

“Alright, then.” Max picks up an XXL condom box and waves it around. “For Little Lando.”

Irritated, you roll your eyes. “Be reasonable, Max.”

“You said get anything!”

“You’re so annoying,” you fume. You catch sight of the cashier looking uncomfortable with the tension between you and Max and figure the situation needs to deescalate. “Okay. Fine. Whatever, just get something reasonable. Put that back.”

“I don’t know what you mean by ‘reasonable,’” he says teasingly, clearly trying to push your buttons.

“Just get a standard condom box.”

“What is a standard co—”

“Get the ones you normally use,” you say, realizing the words after they leave your mouth.

The cashier coughs.

Shrugging, Max grabs the familiar box off the shelf and tosses it, emptying both your baskets right after. His face is amused when he turns and you see him again, but you’re both wordless while the payment goes through and you exit together. The car ride back to the hotel is quiet, stuffy, and tense, your arms crossed over your chest and Max’s occupied with both of the plastic bags.

“I’m surprised you remember what condoms I use.” He says with a smug smile when you’re both in the elevator. He’s parked his car on the basement floor, so you need to get to the lobby. You watch the lights signify what floor you’re on, waiting desperately for the ground floor button to glow yellow.

Still annoyed, you humor him despite yourself. “Why’s that?”

It dings yellow right as he responds. “You’re always begging for me to cum inside you, anyway.”

The doors open but neither of you move. Max watches you grow flustered and take a deep breath. “You’re a sicko,” you declare, walking out. He follows you with a laugh, knowing he’s right.

You meet the group outside the lobby, where they’re already piling onto a yacht, big enough for everyone. It’s ridiculously huge and expensive-looking, bobbing softly by the dark water. Charles emerges from the upper tier and waves to you and Max with a goofy grin.

After you help spread and deposit the groceries on the table, you walk around, finally detaching yourself from Max’s side. Eventually drinks ebb around the group, shots and crude cocktails that are fed to you like water. Buzzed with warmth and courage, you move to the back of the boat where there’s a ladder to swim, grunting when you find Max already there.

You clench your cocktail. “What’re you doing?”

“Preparing to swim, what’s it look like?”

“Oh.” You pause. “I didn’t know you could swim.”

You down the rest of your drink, leaning against the side of the boat and watching as he sheds his shirt and jumps into the ocean. Some of the water splashes onto you, and it’s cold, sending goosebumps throughout your body. He surfaces, hair darkened from being wet and smile dopey. A few strands of hair stick up.

“Wanna join?”

“Over my dead body,” you say, taking a seat and dripping your legs instead.

“The water’s nice.”

“It’s frigid,” you counter. “You should be wearing a snowsuit, dumbass.”

“How mean,” he says, diving underneath and surfacing again. “You’re too chicken, is all.”

Emboldened, by the buzz of alcohol maybe, the music, or—most likely of all—Max’s teasing, you nod. “Chicken?”

You get up, legs dripping, and pull your shorts down, tugging your tiny tank top off right after. You’re left in your bathing suit, and watch as Max’s eyes lock onto your tits, spilling out of your bikini top. His gaze is slow on you, like it’s his first time seeing you like this.

You step onto the cool ladder to avoid jumping, your back turned to Max’s as you feel more and more of your body submerge into the freezing water. You turn, taking a seat on one of the rungs. Max swims toward you, wiping a hand over his face.

“Not a chicken. But I’m not going any lower,” you say firmly, in the water from the waist down. “It’s too cold.”

“I’m fine having you like this,” he says lowly, his voice thick with desire. He cages you in, two big hands on either side of the ladder. For leverage, your legs wrap around him. You’re so close together. After days, weeks, of resisting.

You release a shaky breath, staring at him, his shoulders, his hands.

“How’s your vacation been?” He asks, lips near your ear.

“Fine,” you say. “Fun.”

“Bring anyone to your room?” You shake your head; he persists. “So you’ve had no luck there, then?”

“None at all,” you say blatantly.

“S’that why you’ve been…” A hand leaves the ladder to squeeze your thigh. “Moaning my name while fucking yourself?”

Your eyes widen, blinking, undeniably caught. You open your mouth to formulate a defense but you can’t. “What are you talking about?”

“Aw, don’t be shy, schatz. You were the one who kept insisting we swear off sex, but I think you’re starting to miss me.”

He presses two fingers to the crotch of your bottoms, rubbing softly. It’s enough to let you whimper. “Max—”

“You keep prancing around in tiny bikinis, skirts, tops. Is it on purpose, hmm? I can’t stop thinking about claiming you. On my bed, my balcony, over any surface.”

He quickens his fingers, and you whine. It feels so good, reminiscent of how wicked he is in bed. You picture it—being bent over the side of the boat, his hands big on your waist, cock sliding in and out of you.

“Feels s’good, Max,” you breathe.

“Does it?” He asks, egging you on. You nod, gripping his wrist—your hand’s still circled around it when he yanks it away.

“But remember what you told me? Before the break?”

“I—fuck,” you mutter, frustrated. “Please.”

“They were your words, not mine, schatz,” he says, easygoing as he dives back underwater, leaving you alone and sexually frustrated. You curse lowly. It’s going to be a long rest-of-the-week.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #f1 x reader

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desafinado · 1 year

Text

★彡 *•.♡ calling them a term of endearment

can i call you mine, and can i call you my lover?

°｡⋆ self-indulgent, fluffy fluff, swearing, a bit suggestive

°｡⋆ alhaitham, diluc, kaveh, xiao x reader (wc:)

note: diluc’s is kinda diff bc idk i just melt every time i write him sdjfkdsjfsdf hes such a gentleman but soft i wanna spoil bb boy… also if you think pet names or cheesy or some shit or whatever this is obviously not for u, talk to the wall this is my blog

alhaitham ♡

“yes, baby?”

you settled into his lap getting a bit more comfortable, but it seemed like alhaitham had frozen into place. you had been dating for a month or so, and yes he’d often call you “dear”, but a term of endearment coming from you? and that term being “baby”? he wasn’t expecting that at all.

“i–uh. book.”

that was all he could mutter, completely forgetting what he was saying, thinking even. you giggled at the sight before you, a taken aback, nervous, and speechless alhaitham; lucky for you, you’d be the only one who got to see it. you snuggled into his chest before teasing him a bit further.

“yes, baby, what about the book?”

there it was again, “baby”. it was going to be the death of him for sure.

“baby? what… what’s the meaning of this?” you weren’t going to let him off so easily, you were gonna savor this while it lasted. “babies are humans at infancy, you know, the first stage of–”

“stop teasing for my sake, please.” he let out an exasperated sigh while you just giggled at his agony. you could get used to this, if this was gonna be the reaction every time. “okay, okay, fine. there’s no reason actually. i just wanted to call you baby, and i think i’m gonna start calling you that more often.”

“i’ll allow it.” he says a little too quickly, and you know he for sure approves as well.

“hmm… but no reason you say?” you hum in approval as he shifts so that his head rests on your shoulder. you close your eyes melting into the warmth he provided; that moment of peace was short lived, however, as he started leaving kisses on the sensitive spots of your neck.

“haitham..! y-you know i’m sensitive there!”

“i know, baby, but i just felt like it. you’re acquainted with the feeling aren’t you?”

diluc ♡

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

you were sitting by the window, gazing out into the vineyards of the dawn winery. it was obvious that something was running through your mind by the tense look on your face. you shook your head for a moment, before returning his gaze.

“it's nothing really. just thinking of a term of endearment for you.” you got up from your seat to approach, cup his cheeks oh so tenderly. “sweetheart, darling, honey? you have so much for me, yet i haven’t the slightest clue what to call you.”

to think that diluc had so much affection and adoration for you, but you couldn’t even think of some cute nickname to call him. everything either felt too cheesy or too formal, but whatever he called you seemed to be just right.

“you know, whatever you might call me, i know i’ll love. you could call me a grape for all i care, and i’d still be head over heels for you.” he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you all the more closer. he couldn’t be serious, could he?

“i’m serious, diluc! i wanna call you something that does you justice. something i could address you in letters, call you in public; something that’ll let everyone know you’re mine.”

he looks up in thought for a second, trying his best to help you out. “sugar?” “too cheesy.” “dear?” “too basic.” “... that’s all i’ve got, darling, i’m sorry.”

an idea finally pops into your head, though, something you should’ve seen earlier.

“what about beloved? because you know… i love you dearly, a-and you’re my…'' after all this time, you still find your heart racing when referring to diluc as your lover, but that only lends the nickname more points. his smile becomes a happy one, giving you a gentle peck on your heated cheeks.

“it’s perfect, beloved, and just so you know, i love you too, and you are my one and only lover.”

kaveh ♡

“kaveh, my love, could you pass me the salt?”

kaveh does as he’s told, but not without a shocked look on his face. you look up from the dough you’re mixing to see the look on his face, raising an eyebrow in response. was he not aware that you could put salt in cookies?

“love? you called me your love!!?” he was practically singing praises. you didn’t realize it meant that much to him, but you were pleased by his reaction nonetheless, a faint chuckle escaping your lips.

“is it that groundbreaking?” you genuinely doubted if he perceived you as unromantic, but you were also aware he had the tendency to be dramatic. his lips calmed down to a sheepish smile.

“it’s nothing like that, i didn’t mean to offend you. it’s just that i’ve been waiting for you to call me one, since we’ve been together.” he hugs you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“i see, i apologize if you had to wait long.” you felt a pang of guilt hit you, knowing he felt that way, but you felt him lightly shaking his head. “no, no, no. i wanted it to happen naturally, and the way you said it just earlier just felt… right.”

once it was time to put them in the oven, he still clung onto you as if you’d evaporate the moment he let go. you could never turn down his physical affection, but this was shaping up to be a bit difficult.

“kaveh… it’s a bit hard to put them in the oven without burning myself if you don’t let go.”

“really now? i’ll let go if you say the magic word.”

“hah. you’re really running with it, aren’t you?”

“magic words, love.” he earned a sigh from you before you finally gave into his desires.

“let go for a second, would you, my love?”

“of course, my love, but once those cookies are in the oven, you’re mine for the next fifteen minutes.”

xiao ♡

xiao was already in disbelief from the fact he had somehow won your affection, and was living a pleasantly romantic relationship with you. this, however, was a whole new level of domesticity.

“i’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

“if i call out dearest, while referring to you of course, will you be able to hear me and come to my aid?” maybe it was silly of you to ask, but you were genuinely curious.

“i… why would you refer to me as dearest?” he was still trying to wrap his head around this whole thing.

“because you’re my dearest? it’s a term of endearment.” you’re sure he’s heard of pet names throughout his years on liyue, so you weren’t quite sure why he was being so naive about it.

“i know that, i just– you really want to call me that?” you nod simply, taking his hand into yours, rubbing circles into his palm.

“if it makes you uncomfortable, i won’t bring it up again. i just thought it would be a cute way of addressing you, calling for you.” there’s some disappointment in your voice, but you genuinely did not want to overstep any boundaries he wasn’t ready to cross.

“no, i love it.”

he squeezes your hand, starting up into your eyes. that look he gave you, full of affection and love, made you weak.

“are you sure? you really don’t–”

“no, i’m sure. i love it, and i’ll be there the moment you call.” there’s a pure and bright smile painted across his face, and you’ve never been more in awe.

“g-great, that’s great!” you stutter out, not really expecting him to accept it so wholeheartedly so quickly. the space between you falls into a comfortable quiet, though you feel a wave of shyness wash over you.

“you can call me other names too, whatever you like. i’ll always be there, okay?” you nod timidly, afraid to make a fool out of yourself any further; xiao’s smile grows wider.

“hmm, then it's settled. you shall call me your dearest as you are mine, isn’t that right, my darling dearest?”

please do not repost on other sites.

#alhaitham #diluc #kaveh #xiao #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #xiao x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #fluff #genshin impact

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scarlettriot · 1 year

Text

Our Girl • Kirishima X f!Reader X Bakugou

Smut • 18+ Only • Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI

this piece is written as an X Reader but it was written with @meggsngrits in mind. If that bothers you, you don’t have to read it. It’s for Meg, anyway ♡

Meg, I know it’s been a rough few days for ya so, I hope some time with your guys helps ♡

i definitely didn’t proof this at all so I’m sorry about that…

The moment Katsuki opened the door to your house he knew something wasn’t right. None of the lights had been turned on, your bag was on the floor rather than hanging on the hook like usual, and you, his adorable little wife, we’re nowhere in sight.

After taking off his boots, he took the time to hang up your bag in its rightful place and then started his search for you.

It wasn’t too hard to find you though, he didn’t exactly like seeing you laying face down on your bed with work clothes still on. Hell, you hadn’t even taken your shoes off!

For now though, he started by sliding off your shoes and setting them at the foot of the bed. “Baby girl,” his voice was low but softer than usual, “when’s the last time you ate?”

You didn’t even answer him. Just shrugged your shoulders. But, when you turned towards him, he could see the wet streaks that ran down the balls of your adorable cheeks. Nah. He couldn’t handle having you crying.

“Silly woman, c’mere.” He’s suddenly so damn thankful he showered before he left the agency so he’s able to sit on the bed fully and pull you into his arms. “Ya get ten minutes of cuddles and then I’m gonna go get you some water.”

Because if you didn’t know when the last time you ate was that also meant you hadn’t been properly hydrated either.

He pulls his phone free and texts your other husband to bring home your favorite take out.

Shitty Hair: Bad day, huh? I’ll grab some mochi too. She want anything else?

“Ei wants t’know if you want him to grab anything on the way home?”

It took you a minute but you shook your head. “No… just want ya both home.”

He relayed the information and then set his phone to rest on the nightstand.

Your arms wound around his torso and your face went back to being buried in his chest. “You’re cute, but your vice grip isn’t gonna stop from gettin’ you water.”

“Does it have to be water?” He barely heard your muffled sass.

“Yea it does, you little brat. Now, you can stay in bed while I get it for ya or you can hold on and I’ll take ya with me.” Your locked hands behind his back told him your choice.

With ease, he swung his legs over the side of the bed while you clung onto him like a little koala. His hands gripped your thick thighs and wrapped them around his narrow waist to make walking effortless.

Normally he would’ve set you on the counter but this time he moved about with you still attached. Grabbing a big water bottle and filling it to the brim. “But Kats! It’s so much!” The corner of his mouth twitched upward and so did his blonde brows. “Oh, fuck off!”

He chuckled and handed the bottle over. “When you’re finished with it, you can drink whatever ya want for the rest of the night.”

There was no point in arguing with him. He wouldn’t budge. So you sighed, “fine,” and took your first swig.

From there he took you back to the bedroom and got you changed into something more comfortable: one of Eiji’s hoodies and a pair of his sweats.

Of course, what should’ve taken less than five minutes ended up closer to thirty… you took your bra off and he couldn’t help himself! He just had to worship you for a while.

Pin your back against the closet wall and pepper kisses across your skin. Over your chest, swirling his tongue around your nipples before migrating down to your soft tummy.

The affection stopped just at the hem of your panties. “Think I’ll wait until Ei gets home, wouldn’t wanna have too much fun without him.”

You looked ready to kill but he kissed you then, hard enough to take your breath away and keep you pleasantly distracted. Stealing kiss after kiss until your lips were puffy and lungs depleted of oxygen.

“Please, Katsuki,” Gods, you sounded so pretty when you said his name like that. Already trying to guide his hand to your core.

You did have such a hard day… “Alright,” his head dipped to your neck, “my needy little woman—”

He pushed your panties to the side and felt how much you actually did need him. Groaning and pathetically rocking his hips against you as his fingers slid inside.

It didn’t take long at all to have you panting for him, whimpering broken versions of his name each time he hit your sweet spot.

“Such a good girl.”

He nips and sucks at your neck, thumb circling your clit again and again. Precise movement that he knows you love.

“Well, that’s one way to cheer her up,” both of you looked to the doorway to find Eijirou looking on, completely pleased with what he’s come home to. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” He hadn’t quit moving those long fingers of his the whole time either. “Think you should join me though.” He turned his ruby gaze back to you. “You want that, right baby girl? Want Ei t’make you cum too?”

He was already walking over as you nodded your head. His smile was as soft and sweet as ever dropping a light kiss on your lips like he does every day when he comes home with his little, “missed you,” and then does the same to Katsuki.

“Gimme some room, would ya?” It’s an awkward little shuffle as Katsuki makes room for Eijirou to sink to his knees between you both. Wasting no time lapping at the mess Katsuki’s made between your legs as his hands tug at his husbands sweats, pulling them down his thighs to give him a little relief too.

Between Katsuki’s fingers and Eijirou’s tongue, you certainly forget about the day you had, you forget about the whole damn week, even your name for a few seconds there.

Eijirou held one of your thighs in his large hand, kneading your soft skin, even taking a few breaks from your cunt to leave a few bite marks over the ones that had faded from just a few days ago.

His wrist flicked, using his other hand to get Katsuki closer to a release too all while muttering praises that sent the sweetest vibrations to your clit.

G— guys, oh fuck, ‘m gonna—“ you whined rather than finished the sentence.

“Gonna cum for us, cutie? That’s our girl,” Eijirou teased since Katsuki was getting close too. “G’head then. We gotcha, love.”

Your nails dig into Katsuki’s arm and pull at Eijirou’s hair as your high crashes over you. Eijirou takes a final lick at your core and leans forward to take Katsuki’s cock in his mouth. Letting the man finish there rather than in his fist.

The two of you pant above him while he smiles, using his thumb to swipe a bit of cum that spilled over.

“Welcome home, Red.” You barely get the sentence out, leaning your head on Katsuki’s shoulder.

He chuckles and kisses your thigh again. “It’s good t’be home. Feelin’ better?”

“Much better now.”

You all sat lounging around the living room with the containers of food Eijirou had brought home covering the coffee and end tables.

The guys listened to you rant about the assholes trying to tell you how to do your job. Thinking they know everything better than you do. More than once they each offered to give these retired gasbags a piece of their mind but you waved them off each time. Just thankful for them listening to you.

The two of them always do though. You could talk to them about anything and they’d give you their undivided attention. And they knew they could come to you for the same.

Whatever the three of you needed, you were always there for each other.

A shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, someone to sit around and eat junk food with… or even bending you over and screwing you until every other thought faded away. Which just so happened to be what the two of them intended on doing for you tonight just as soon as you finished your dinner ♡

#love you meg ♥️#meg & her men 🧡❤️#mha fic #mha smut #bnha smut #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku smut #kiribaku fluff #Kirishima smut #Bakugou smut #boomboomboi 💥#best red rock shark ♥️🦈#scarlett’s feeling smutty 💋

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upsidedownwithsteve · 7 months

Text

Love Sucks I. The Beginning

Vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!reader He's just a gloomy, little guy.

The Masterlist 🩸

You found him in a graveyard.

Mournful looking, as one normally does when visiting a loved one. Skin a little sallow, a perpetually faded tan that you noticed never seemed to return, not even on the warmest days. Brown eyes, sad eyes. Honey hair with a small white-grey patch in the midst of it all, only found when you hunted for it, a clue to his past, of what had happened to him. He was tall, pretty.

Really pretty, in a gloomy sort of way. Melancholy, maybe. And you realised as you passed, laying flowers by your grandparents names, that the boy wasn’t visiting any grave at all. He was lingering by the tree line in a way that should’ve screamed ‘danger!’ but he was kicking a rock and pulling leaves from the shrubs, shredding them as he sulked. He stopped when he saw you, only a few feet away, his eyes wide, as if he was surprised you were seeing him at all.

Maybe you weren’t supposed to.

“Hi,” you called out, cautious, concerned. You raised a hand, a small wave, a gentle surrender, the summer breeze picking at your hair and blowing the smell of your citrus perfume over to him.

The boy raised a hand back, eyes still shocked. He pressed his lips together and stayed in the shadows that the trees gave before he answered. “Hi.”

And that was it.

He walked with you to your car, a slow, lazy pace that both of you didn’t hurry, too busy sharing shy glances to want to part. He was called Steve and he didn’t live around here, not usually. He was your age, or there about and he was only in the graveyard because it was quiet.

His vague answers were as much as you could get out of him, everything told to you in a soft, tired sounding voice. He had bags under his eyes, lilac coloured things that made him look like he hadn’t slept for a decade and when his hand brushed yours by accident, he was colder than he should have been for someone standing in the sun. And when you finally got to your car, the front seat still smelling like lilies and lavender, Steve tilted his head and looked sad at the thought of you having to go.

You asked him if he had dinner plans that night, he gave you a shadow of a smile and touched his fingertips to his lips, almost as a subconscious thought. He shrugged, looking gloomy once more, saddened at the thought of having to tell you:

“Kinda, yeah.”

But then he told you he’d be around tomorrow and maybe you could meet then? Maybe go for a walk, a coffee or something. So you said yes, barely concealing your smile, unsure what it all meant since the boy hardly seemed flirtatious but when you clambered into the front seat of your car, you let out a squeal all the same.

It didn’t occur to you that it was odd the boy had disappeared by the time you’d looked in your rear view mirror, nothing but air and the slowly falling leaves from the old oak trees, a sign that fall was coming soon.

After that, Steve was yours. And you were his, one not usually anywhere without the other and his melancholy was lifted with your contagious joy, your overwhelming excitement calmed by his gloom. A ray of sunshine and a rain cloud.

A girl and her vampire.

Not that you knew that, not yet. Not quite then.

Then one day, maybe a month or so later, Mike and Lucas upset El and the shelves she was standing next to fell to the floor, books ripped at the spines, screws scattering across the floorboards. And everyone had looked at Steve with wide eyes, ashen faces. It had taken a little bit of time to explain and the boy really hadn’t shown much surprise.

And just when you were ready to approach him, kneeling onto the couch cushions beside him, hand offered in support, Steve had blinked and looked up at everyone just as he parted his lips and let his canine teeth stretch out from his gums, sharp, brilliantly white and pointed.

Nancy had gasped, some of the kids shrieked, Eddie had cackled wildly and you’d waited a beat before reaching out to skim a finger over Steve’s bottom lip, the pad of it grazing the end of one fang. With one supernatural kid already under your wing - along with a boy who’d once wanted to keep a demogorgon as a pet - no one in the party was in a position to judge.

When you asked, “how?”

Steve could only shrug. He said he was sure he had died, maybe, only just. Hit on the head, or maybe he’d fallen. Or he’d been brought back by something or someone he didn’t know. And when asked for how long, Steve shrugged again, rubbing his tired eyes and telling everyone that it could’ve been a week, it could’ve been ten years - he only really started counting the days since he met you.

He’d been lonely, moving from town to town until people stopped asking questions and he could blend into grey buildings and tall trees. No one in Hawkins had spoken to him before, not until the pretty girl in the graveyard said ‘hi.’ And it all made sense, really. Because Steve never ate meals with you, just chugged coffee like it was going out of style and snacked on anything dry and crispy. You just figured he was a little strange, maybe trying out for the swim team, or something.

Not that he went to school. Or a job. Or… well, anywhere.

So you blinked and nodded, accepting the fact your boyfriend was a vampire as easily as you accepted that one of your friends kept military level weapons under her bed because other dimensions existed and monsters were real.

Shit happened, y’know?

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #vamp!steve harrington #vampire!steve harrington

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yxami · 8 months

Text

I’ll make some usefulness out of my stalker ex and write about what happened today and yesterday but just with a few extra details. I didn’t proof reader half of it sorry, I’m abt to go to work

You groaned checking your phone when you saw the notification from a unknown number. Something along the lines of “is this reader?”, attempting to confirm that it was you. It was an unknown number though, you knew it was him, you just knew it, you never spoke to anyone nor gave out your phone number unless it was someone from work.

But you already had everyone’s phone number at your workplace, so who else could this be?

“Yup! Who is this? 😊” You replied back, with false cheerfulness, of course. There was no way it wasn’t him.

“Hey, I know you told me to leave you alone and how you don’t want a relationship.. but I miss you sm and I’ve been thinking about us a lot. I’ve grown and changed! I don’t love bomb anymore and I know how to give space. I’m changed now!!” The dark curly brown hair guy quickly typed back, bitting his lip in anxiousness, please don’t block him, please don’t block him, if you did this would’ve been the 4th time!

Surely you don’t truly mean that you don’t want something, right??

You cursed complaints under breath, you should’ve just blocked him. That’s what you did last two times but apparently ignoring him didn’t work either, it caused him to be more insistent. You sighed and decided to go to the bathroom and text back to end this for one and for all.

Just a quick 5 minutes to text him to finally confirm that you wanted nothing to do with him and that he needs to get over you! It’s been 6 months, how is this guy not over you?? He’s even had a relationship so the fact he still isn’t over you shows that was just a rebound.

Once you finally told him how you felt, how you wanted to be left alone and 100% do not want even have a friendship with him. You assumed that would be it! Until you sent him your finally text after he begged once more.

“Please, I’ve changed, just give me one more chance?”

“No dude, I don’t know else what you want” You stopped replying with a mindful tone, who cared if he cried himself to sleep after another rejection from you. He needs to move on! You broke up with him and that was enough for him to know you didn’t want to continue the relationship.

“I want you, please I miss you”

Your thumb finally clicked on the block text after having it hover over the button since the beginning of the conversation. You clicked your phone shut, shoving it in your pocket and getting back to work quickly.

A little scolding from your manager who’s your friend for taking so long but she didn’t mind too much.

The next day had passed, you were finally almost done with your last period, sleepily listening to your English teacher, falling in and out of sleep for a few times despite holding your head up with as much power you had.

But midday sleepiness didn’t win this time, a vibration coming from your back pocket caused you to yawn and scan the message. The first starting numbers being in your area code, but no contact name. You wondered if it was just your shitty connection to the schools wifi or just an unknown number.

You were too drowsy to realize what you were reading until you saw the sheer length of the text. You had just blocked him yesterday and he had the audacity to try it again the next day??

Has he not learned the past 5 times that you’ve done so? You even unfriended and blocked him on Roblox, how has he not taken that personal??

You skimmed through the text, not putting enough effort to realize what he even said before showing your best-friend with disbelief written on your face, a fake laugh leaving your lips as she stared with an amused expression.

“No way, didn’t you blocked him yesterday? Send me that shit I wanna see what he said” She said with a tone that you already knew meant she wanted to make fun of what he said. She always found the words he said to be desperate and embarrassing sounding.

And she wasn’t wrong, this paragraph or maybe you should say confession already sounded corny by how he made the starter line saying “I know you told me that you’ve blocked me and stuff but—“

He should’ve just given up by the first line, he knows he has no chance yet he tries and tries again.

You can only imagine how long it took him to type such a lengthy text, especially during class, did his teacher not manage to catch him? Ahh, whatever, you might as well take a screen shot and tell him to leave you alone before blocking him.

Which is exactly what you did, reading the text, most of it was just about how he’s changed, how he missed you, a few new confessions about how he’s been dreaming of you and him, dreaming about new scenarios. A few sentences including about how much he loved you, and how much he’s seen you lately, how pretty you look.

What a creep. Blocked.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere imagines #pls request #yandere scenarios #gn reader #soft yandere #yandere prompt #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere ocs #crazy yandere #yandere stalker #stalker yandere #yandere ex

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universalmofo · 3 months

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okay i finished heroes of olympus a couple days ago and here are some of my thoughts :

-nico should’ve been a part of the seven. he was essential to the success of the quest in numerous capacities and one of the big three’s kids. it made NO sense to me that he wasn’t one of the seven. (on that note, i think it did make sense that thalia wasn’t one of the seven. she has been with the hunters for some time and she was presumed a tree for like a long time.)

-grover could’ve very very easily taken coach hedges part in hoo. grover was already out looking for percy, so if he was already looking for percy and if annabeth found out that a “clue” to where percy was, was at the wilderness school grover would’ve jumped at the opportunity to go and try and figure out what was going on at the school by acting as a student again. he would’ve been back at camp by the end of the lost hero and he would have, what, 6 (?) months to go spread a warning to the wilderness about gaia and get things in order before they took off on the argo ii. and he could’ve been trying to communicate with percy via empathy link the ENTIRE time he was doing other stuff.

-it was just lazy of rick to write out grover tbh. and even tyson who came all the way across the country for percy. only for them to have extremely limited amount of time spent together (which makes sense, but this would’ve been HUGE for percy).

-it has been stated over and over and over again that quests should only be taken on by three. this quest was the biggest task they had ever faced, with far too much at stake. therefore, the prophecy of the seven should’ve been a utter tragedy ( one could even say a modern greek tragedy ) where they all accepted that four of them would Not be finishing this quest alive. that they were all willing to give themselves up for the greater good.

which four should’ve lived, i think percy, nico, annabeth and leo. (this pickings are biased and based on the idea that nico should’ve been included in the seven prophecy, if nico is not included then frank or hazel could take his place, but also these choices are based on their importance to the quest and their strength/ability)

- there was no need for there to be so many couples in the group of seven. it caused a huge lack in my opinion of actual friendship development.

there was very little actual friendship development/ vibes even in the lost hero when piper and leo HAVE been friends for MONTHS??? also this continues to be an issue in the rest of the books where piper and jason literally leave leo out or there is a comment along the lines of “he knew to give them their space”.

rick constantly threw in comments about how hazel and piper had become closer, or piper and annabeth had become “best friends” while not actually showing that. same thing with the boys. the only example i can think of where there was some real development was that conversation leo and frank had when they were at the bottom of the ocean.

they never had moments of them all sitting and talking besides about strategy.

- and on THAT note piper and jason never should’ve started dating. it was forced. it just seemed like the thing they should do after hera forced these memories in pipers head. quite frankly, it was a huge missed opportunity for a storyline in which leo and piper had been dating and hera shoved jason in between those memories and leo piper and jason are all SUPER pissed about that, or a storyline about how jason and piper try to figure out if there’s something there the entirety of the lost hero but the reason it just doesn’t feel right to jason becomes more obvious to him as he slowly develops a crush on leo.

there were just a LOT more interesting ways to go about that trio and none of them happened which made that entire dynamic fall flat for me and i think a lot of people.

which makes sense why frank leo and hazel worked SO much better and were believably close and connected. (even if frank and hazel were mainly the audience being told they like one another and not shown)

-percy was slightly off throughout the books. i believe even rick admitted he had a hard time writing percy in these books since he hadn’t for a while.

-did we ever find out why leo and piper were totally fine out in the world even tho they were 15??? i don’t remember this being explained??

-i distinctly remember jason getting some memories back and remembering frank and hazel as his friends AND hazel or frank discussing jason as a friend in son but then in house of hades or maybe mark of athena or blood of olympus (i can’t remember), hazel thinks to herself that she was still not sure what to think of jason? like she couldn’t tell what was going on underneath the surface? as if they hadn’t been friends or ever met before the quest?

-nico and percy are friends at the end of the day. percy is on some level protective over nico and nico is connected to percy / cares about him even if he doesn’t have a crush on him. they have a very interesting dynamic but at the end of the day, if percy went missing for MONTHS, nico would’ve been looking for him. and he most definitely would’ve not just pretended to entirely not know him when he came to camp jupiter??? especially when percy asked if he knew nico. that was SO weird to me. i was expecting them to have a conversation, even if nico gave him very brief and vague info.

on that train of thought, percy WOULD NEVER doubt the idea of rescuing nico??? his fatal flaw is LOYALTY. no matter how pissed he was at nico he would never question if they should even save nico. even if NOT for nico, it was kinda established that percy felt like an older brother to hazel (even tho this dynamic was never again touched on or seen), which again, he is loyal to those he cares about so he would be willing to do it, if not for nico, then for sure for hazel.

-percy never says i love you or i love you back to annabeth until blood of olympus. which is CRAZY and sooo not percy in my opinion.

-why the hell were mark of athena and house of hades the hardest parts of the entire quest ??? fighting gaia should’ve taken up the the majority or better yet, the ENTIRETY of boo, similarly to the last olympian.

i think this came down to a poorly paced series. rick could’ve broken his formula in tlh and son and moved the stories along faster. have the annabeth reunion in son or make the books longer.

- leo and nico would’ve been an interesting dynamic and quite frankly, they could’ve been a very cute couple. both feel like they are always on the outskirts / like they don’t fit in, both have complicated and sad familial issues, both of their mothers died because of the gods in some regard, both have never had a stable home, both speak other languages, both don’t have any other family then their godly parents, both have constantly been running their whole lives and haven’t been able to make real connections and friends.

the fact that i could even come up with this many makes me even more mad cause my lord. what a missed opportunity.

-leo was the heart of the entire quest. he literally CARRIED for five books straight and he was paid DUST.

i hated his ending.

you’re telling me that he literally has spent a year, fighting alongside his friends, building a ship for them to be able to carry out this quest, living with them, caring about them, and then “sacrificing” himself and all that mattered to him was A GIRL??? his FIRST priority was calypso??? not even letting his friends know that he was ALIVE??

on that subject, why wouldn’t he tell them his entire plan? if he was gonna tell hazel and frank that he was going to die anyways?

-percy losing his heroes blessing or whatever it’s called?? 😐 it seems like rick just needed a reason to get rid of this? it honestly just made no sense.

- and last but very not least ( i can’t believe i almost forgot ) WHAT WAS RICK THINKING NOT HAVING PERCY OR ANNABETH’s POV’s in BOO????

i gotta be real y’all i did not know i had so many opinions/ issues with the books until i started doing this.

anyways, mark of athena and house of hades are by far the best books of this series and also the most gripping and well written. please remind me if i miss remembered something and am wrong.

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