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morallyinept · 3 months

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Slow - A Javi Gutierrez One Shot

'Slow, slow. Slow as you can go. So I can feel all I want to know. Slow, slow. I go with your flow. Let the world keep it's carnival pace. I'd prefer to look into your beautiful face...' - Slow, Depeche Mode

Summary: Javi just wants to take it slow. Really slow. Because, that's how he likes it.

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. However, Reader speaks and understands Spanish.)

Word Count: 3.4k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/lots of sensuality/multiple orgasms/making love/Javi completely loving on you, and being completely in love with you... 🫠

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by my result of this tag game and therefore I had to write it... first time writing for gorgeous Javi G too! 😍 There's lots of Javi & Reader conversing in Spanish so I've provided translations as you go.

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVI GUTIERREZ MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

His fascination with your mouth borders on an unbridled obsession.

It’s the curve of your lips, a subtle intoxicating lilt that holds him captivated in your thrall. You have him bewitched.

In the quiet moments of the pleasant fracas swirling around him, he finds himself entranced by the way your mouth quirks into a beaming smile, a sight that could brighten even the dullest day to fall out of the sky onto his head of silken curls.

In the sultry Mallorcan night, the heat hangs in the air like a velvet cocoon. The villa, perched on the cliffs overlooking the coastline, catches the sea breeze that carries with it the intoxicating scent of salt and blooming bougainvillaea.

The moon, a radiant slither of its full naked orb, casts a silvery glow on the Mediterranean waters, turning the waves into a ripple of shimmering diamond refractions.

The night air is filled with the chorus of chattering cicadas, their rhythmic hum a soundtrack to the nocturnal symphonies of the night.

From the cliffs, the lights of coastal towns twinkle in the distance, creating a mesmerising panorama against the dark canvas of the night sky.

The event bears the imprint of both newly conceived business connections and broader social interactions. Laughter echoes against the backdrop of the sea, mingling with the distant sounds of the waves crashing against the cliffs on which the luxurious villa, you and Javi call home, rests on.

But Javi’s interest tonight is piqued on something other than the façade of the glitz that comes with the party uniting his independent business venture away from a life shadowed by once secretly organised crime.

Shunning his duties as an amiable host this evening, he’s distracted by you and your lips.

He loves the way your glazed lips feel on the pads of his fingertips; a soft and tender invitation to place gentle smooches on them that speaks the volumes of your love for him without uttering a single word.

The thought of your shared, deep kisses linger in his mind like a sweet aftertaste; a memory he can savour throughout the minutes of separation from you by his side.

He misses the cadence of your voice already as he sees your mouth converse with his new associates.

Whether you whisper sweet, riled nothings in the height of hedonistic delirium in his ear, or share heartfelt sentiments doing mundane things, each syllable carries the warmth of your unwavering connection.

Javi’s fixation on your mouth is raw and primal, an intense craving that runs deeper than words. The way your lips move, whether in a smirk or a pouted smile, stirs a want, a need, within him.

It’s as if your mouth holds a magnetic pull, daring him to explore its depths with a hunger that borders on illicit infatuation.

He thinks about how they... suck.

In the heat of passion, he revels in the brand of your lips, each kiss leaving a mark on his senses and skin alike where the lines blur between careful restraint and reckless abandon.

It’s a visceral experience, one that leaves him yearning for more, addicted to the electrifying sensation of your mouths colliding frantically.

Sipping on cool champagne from across the soiree, Javi watches you with a silent appreciation and a growing warmth traversing his bloodstream, gathering at the end of his painfully hardening cock.

The soft glow of the outdoor lights play on your soft features, and every movement seems to be in some unspoken, yet choreographed, harmony with the effervescent bubbles twirling in his glass.

His coffee bean eyes are fixated on you within the balmy shadows, and as you speak with those around you, he can't help but be mesmerised by the way your mouth moves.

He marvels at the way your laughter spills from your lips like the finest vintage wine, filling him up with a contagious yet unquenchable thirst; a storm in his head that only settles when you’re near.

He looks at you, a dissected hunger spilling out over his features. He’s known obsession before, but not like this.

This burns, this desire leaves him on his knees, begging at the altar of you for more; the focal point in the gallery of his yearning, to taste those lips and let them roam unbidden across his body once more.

In the midst of the vibrant party, he finds himself helplessly ensnared by the conspiring allure of you. Your laughter echoes through him like a haunting melody, drawing his gaze as you effortlessly charm those around you into willful subjugation.

His chest swells with pride, knowing that you’re the one who holds the spotlight in his once complicated life. You’re the one he can be unabashed and silly with.

That yours is the pair of lips he can enjoy as they wrap so delectably around his cock.

Javi holds in an audible groan at the memory of you doing just that, only hours ago.

Leaving the home of his arms to ready yourself for the party, he'd watched you. An arm behind his head, splayed naked on the bed, engrossed as you ran the velvety lipstick over your lips in the mirror.

You watched, just as enraptured as he, through the glass reflection as he fucked his fist languidly whilst you did it.

You blotted your lipstick on his lower hip, a kiss print tattoo staining his skin that only you both know is there.

Now, as you move through the crowd, a magnetic force tugs at his attention. The gentle swish of the silk of your flaxen dress reveals a slip of thigh skin to tantalise him further.

The way your eyes sparkle at him with excitement - each detail of your smile etches into his consciousness, carves deep into the steeple of his bones.

In the throes of the party, he feels like a mere spectator witnessing the enchanting performance of the woman he calls his amor.

As your eyes meet across the crowded space, a spark ignites creating an electric current that surges between you both. You feel it immediately whenever he looks at you like this, that bolt down your spine brandishing molten and hot into your core.

How his dark eyes drink you in over the tip of his champagne glass; a contained predator under the guise of a hapless romantic, sizing up his prey.

How he wanders over your body with an unapologetic, insatiable smirk, leaving a slew of prickles to flood all over it; nipples tightening under the flimsy silk for all to see, but only for him to taste.

You both know what he does to you. What you do to each other, even without physical touch. He knows how wet you are for him under that dress right now.

You know how hard he his inside of his pants right now.

Amidst the party's chaos, your mutual pining silence becomes loud; gazes locked with an intensity that screams of a shared hunger for one another. A flutter in his chest, a quickened pulse throbbing between your legs; the visceral responses to the tether that pulls tight between you ready to snap.

You lick your lips, the subtle swipe of your wet tongue over the scarlet of them, and it breaks all of his composure in an instant.

Glass discarded blindly on the table behind him, Javi makes his way towards you.

In whispered conversations beneath the shimmering string lights, your entwined arms and words carry the weight of acute longing - a pace of deliberately denied pleasure.

“See something you like, Javi?” You smile into the graze of his softly bearded cheek and plant a delicate kiss on it.

"Mi amor," he whispers, his voice a soft serenade. "Estás radiante esta noche, más hermosa que nunca." (My love, you are radiant tonight, more beautiful than ever.)

He presses his forehead against yours, soft silken curls spilling down his temples.

“You look so good in this colour.” His fingers brush down the front of your dress, leaving devastation in their wake.

You smile into him sweetly, at the compliment he adorns you with. It’s worth more than any gold he's wrapped around your finger.

Your digits slide up and down the expensive lapels of his shimmery suit jacket. A colour like the depths of a lush forest after a gentle rain that serves to enhance the tan on his face, and he’s never looked more beautiful.

You clutch him closer, breathing him in; a blend of aromatic lavender, spicy cardamom and a burst of citrus bergamot blends on his skin as you run your nose behind his ear.

His hands find a home snug around your lower back, stroking the bare skin there your dress dares to reveal, and gently crushing you closer against him.

It’s a relentless pursuit, an unending loop of wanting more - more of your laughter to gorge upon, more of your warmth, more of the intoxicating essence that is uniquely you.

More of those lips as they draw near and he can feel your warm breath from them ghosting upon his mouth.

Leaning in, he grazes them against his own and asks in a low, intimate tone, "¿Podemos escaparnos por un momento, mi amor?" (Can we slip away for a moment, my love?)

The words carry a sense of biting urgency and crackles with something more than a whispered clandestine secret to escape the decadent banality around you.

As if caught in the trance of a feverish reverie, the party seems to melt away, replaced by the dreamscape of your bedroom where time moves differently and the heat of the Spanish climate sticks to your skin further, despite the open doors on the balcony.

The linen curtains billow in the breeze welcoming you both in. The flickering lights from the party below cast ethereal shadows in the bedroom, and the muted sounds of the revellers become a distant melody as Javi finally attaches himself to your succulent lips, stumbling in the doorway with you.

In this fever dream, desire is palpable, a desecration of any innocence as he pushes the door shut behind him with the sole of his Gucci loafer, and he’s above your body on the kingdom of your shared bed, those cascading chocolate waves falling into your face.

The siren of the night calls, a constant craving, an ache that only subsides when you’re entangled in each other's arms. And yet it still feels as though it'll never be absolved.

He draws his fingertips around the circumference of your silk covered nipples, then up to your lips. He watches in awe as you kiss each of them, your tongue daring to lick around them, sucking them into your mouth.

"Your mouth,” Javi murmurs, the intensity of his gaze fixated on the wet, pink tongue sliding between the webbing of his fingers.

He feels you cup him over his pants, the prominent ache becoming unbearable as you squeeze gently.

"Quisiera tomárnoslo con calma esta noche." (I want us to take it slow tonight.)

“Javi…” You groan in protest as he runs his wet fingers over your crown and presses himself against you, making you feel the hardness of him at your centre.

"Lento... realmente lento, mi amor. Quiero tomarme mi dulce tiempo contigo." (Slow... really slow, my love. I want to take my sweet time with you.)

“Javi, por favor…” You whine, trying to grind against him. (Javi, please…)

“Quiero explorarte a fondo... hacerte anhelar que esto dure para siempre.” (I want to explore you thoroughly... make you long for this to last forever.)

Sucked into the plush oasis of his mouth, tongue swiping tantalising tracks across your lips, your fingers rake into his curls as you tug. A gritty whine of longing claws its way from deep within him; a raw and primal sound that conjoins the ache in his chest and the incessant throbbing in his cock.

It’s a guttural utterance, a manifestation of the unspoken cravings that sear red hot through his veins.

"Entrégame todo tu amor, Javi.” (Give me all of your love, Javi.) You gasp as you come up for air.

You push his jacket from his broad shoulders, fingers prying at buttons down the linen shirt to get to the prize of golden skin underneath. The hem of your pale honey silk is pushed up to your waist as his fingers stroke over your thighs.

A slew of kisses make steamed tracks on your collarbone, a hungry mouth trailing over your bare breasts as he releases them. Hard nipples are sucked into warm, wet flesh as you whine and gasp.

He buries himself between your thighs, lips sucking, tongue fucking into you gently, as you twist your fingers into his scalp and pant for more.

“Javi!”

He hears you lament his name over and over, lost in the depths of the pleasure from his mouth. He offers you a tether, fingers slipped into your cunt and mouth alike as he looks up at you, tongue running around your pulsing clit.

The bedroom fills with sunlight in the ripe darkness of the night - you glow for him, as bright as your dress, brighter than the sun.

He watches you come as he licks and sucks you through it; fingers pushing into your craving orifices deeper, coated in saliva and slick.

Javi discards his pants, kiss print still visible from your lips. Crawling up your body gloriously naked, sculpted in the arms and shoulders, you welcome him in with open, adoring arms and legs.

Those first few strokes, when he enters you, feels like the first time all over again. Like he’s died and been reborn anew. Put back together again, sewn up with glittered strings.

He slows right down, dragging his thick cock almost all the way out, before pushing back in slower than before.

You groan, low and lingering, entombed in your wanting. Feeling every hilt and swollen ridge of him.

“You feel me like this, mi amor?” His nose nuzzles at your neck, lips pressing kisses into the column of your throat. “¿Tienes idea de lo jodidamente hermosa que estás en este momento?" (Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now?)

His fingers slip down your stomach, circling over your clit as you whine for more.

He stops only to kiss you, losing himself in the richness of your taste; his cock plunged in deep and feeling you clench and rib around him.

“Slow,” Javi whispers.

“Slow,” you whisper back.

He glances down between your bodies to keenly observe the root of your connection; watching the way he disappears fully into you, hips crushed against yours.

Watching the way you gnaw and bite on your bottom lip that he just has to have. Taking it between his teeth, he sucks it, sweet nips, tongue sliding into your mouth to gorge on you further.

The grind is deep, a languid pendulum of his hips back and forth. You grasp at his fingers, entwining them as he pulls you out of yourself.

Slow, unhurried strokes so you feel it all; lingering in the pooling light of your orgasms, never letting them diminish, always keeping you out of the dark.

Kisses click down your jaw, soft grazes of his facial hair feels like chiffon against your skin. Hands stroking, squeezing, full of you as he fills you full of his hard, thick love.

Soon your mouth craves the taste of him and you take him; lips clamped around his length as you suck him down into the back of your throat, tasting your sweet slick that coats him.

Nose pressed against the soft, downy hairs at the base of him, and his fingers curl around tendrils of your hair as you suck.

Javi gulps, a gasp strangled in his throat somewhere cracking out of him as he watches you annihilate him with those lips.

He pulls your face up to him, kissing you so desperately and tasting his own salt on them. He feels you circling, with just the tip of your forefinger and thumb, trailing delicately up his shaft and to the head that’s warm and glistening.

You rub your thumb over that tiny oozing slit and feel him twitch and buckle as he groans - that deep, guttural sound when a man finds his pleasure.

"Soy completamente tuyo." (I am all yours.) He rasps, losing everything he is in an instant with a simple flick of your tongue.

You kiss and mouth over his cock gently, trailing the swollen, wet head over your lips as though re-applying your favourite lipstick.

He grunts, neck craned with his head watching and relishing that moment to come when you’ll slip him into your throat again.

"Oh si, si, si..." he hisses encouragingly. Little breaths of "fuck... fuck... fuck..." puff out of him on ragged whispers as he watches your hungry lips devouring him slowly.

As slow as you can go.

You climb up him as he sits upright; broad, muscular arms straining with the weight of him.

“Necesito de ti, Javi.” (I need you, Javi.) You shudder.

You sink down on him without hesitation, gasping with a tremor as he fills you up.

“Slow,” he whispers.

“Slow,” you whisper back.

A gentle swivel and flex of your hips, back shining with sweat as you rock into that sweet, heady rhythm of how he likes it, how he wants this to last.

He steers you down onto him, feeling you shake down his length as he fills you up slowly, deliberately to make you feel him.

He places his palm flat on your lower tummy increasing the pressure as you arch back and you can feel the delicious weight of it as he furrows deep inside of you.

A few strokes of your clit with his thumb and you're falling apart.

“Ah si, Javi…” You wail.

He licks into your mouth as you cry out for him, tasting those lips once more. Sucking on the bottom as he gives you all of him.

He runs his nose across your throat and it makes him shudder in that way he does when he inhales your scent into his bloodstream. When he shifts his body weight slightly, you can feel exactly what it does to him as he hits your spot and you rile his name.

Outside, muted star trails smear across the night’s sky above the ocean. In here, in the sheets with Javi, it’s all slowed down to heavy panting breaths, touches that linger and sear into the layers of your skin as they crisp and unfurl.

Burning you up from the inside. Teeth bite into your tongue to mute the crescendoing whines and moans.

He whispers sweetly comforting spiels in your ear as he's deeper right now than he’s ever been. Buried to the absolute hilt inside of you, and the slightest movement makes you gasp and clench and fist those sheets in heady defiance.

And yet he still keeps you grounded as he swells and stretches you out. Locked in a silent gasp, your mouth open, your hands slowly release their death grip on the sheets and he kisses your shoulder in a mark of respect and praise as you burst around him; stardust and diamond fragments filling the air as he inhales you in.

Javi moves slowly, backs out a little and you whine at the feel of less of him, but he's back inside you in a slow, deep glide, bringing you full of him again.

And again. And again.

He clamps his fingers around your nipples as you're on the cusp once more, knowing how much you love it.

“Mírame… Eres tan hermosa. (Look at me… You’re so beautiful.) How did I get so lucky?” He utters in spellbound disbelief.

You’re coming again; body clenching and shuddering, pussy squeezing around his cock, and each time he can barely hold on himself.

He pulls them out of you, one after another to bear witness to each one being born. The gentle weight of him on top of you, the softness of his warm, tanned skin, the scent of his cologne and the words he says sends you over the edge.

The only time Javi speeds up is when he draws closer to his own finish, pumping his hips into you as he whimpers and has his turn to shake in your arms.

Brow furrowing, dark eyes watery, he strains and gasps.

“Te amo muchísimo, nunca dejaré de amarte…” (I love you so much, I’ll never stop loving you...) He utters as you kill him.

"Nunca, nunca, nunca..." (Never, never, never...) You say smiling into his mouth. “Javi, come for me,” you groan.

“Si, mi vida…” he pants. “I’m coming for you… fuuuuuck!” He growls into your ear.

You come with him as he empties with a shudder, his forehead crushed into yours, fingers knotted in your scalp, your nails buried into his back skin.

He kisses you, the taste of salt and faded bubbles wash over your tongues.

He stays inside you, connected and drenched in seeping slick and spend as he kisses your lips - those lips that could make him leap off the cliffs to his death.

Those lips that are divine inspiration.

"¿Tenemos que volver a la fiesta?" (Do we have to go back to the party?) You ask dreamily as he kisses over your breasts and shoulders repeatedly, slowly.

"No, podemos quedarnos aquí, mi amor." (No, we can stay here, my darling.) He says into gluttonous mouthfuls of your skin. "Además, aún no he terminado de tomarme mi tiempo contigo..." (Besides, I haven't finished taking my time with you yet...)

You smile into his crown and he looks up at you; soft chocolate curls framing his buoyant face.

“Slow.” You say.

“Slow.” Javi agrees. “Así es como me gusta.” (That's how I like it.)

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you enjoyed going slow with Javi G. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts, and would always appreciate a re-blog if you enjoyed what you just read. 🖤

MAIN MASTERLIST | JAVI GUTIERREZ MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal x reader #javi gutierrez x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javi gutierrez #tuwomt #javi g x reader #javi g smut #javi g fluff #javi g x you #javi gutierrez x you #the unbearable weight of massive talent #jett's writing

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ricciardosheart · 21 days

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A Yachting Romance

summary - Charles surprises her in their shared home in Monaco and takes her for a special date on a Yacht they have their favorite meal together watch a movie and lie down in the glistening sun, the story should be set on the afternoon in the french riviera

pairing - Charles Leclerc X f reader

warnings - fluff fluff and only fluff

authors note - I cried like balled my eyes out when I wrote this I was in the ovulation phase, women you can understand, please read at your own discretion, not proofread, thi

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the Mediterranean with strokes of gold and crimson. Inside their Monaco home, (Y/N) lounged on a plush sofa, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of sea salt through open windows. Lost in the pages of a novel, she was oblivious to the soft footsteps approaching her.

"Hey there, beautiful," a familiar voice whispered, causing her to look up. Charles stood before her, a bouquet of vibrant flowers in his hand and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Charles!" (Y/N) exclaimed, setting her book aside with a smile as she accepted the flowers. "What's all this?"

"Just a little surprise," he replied, his grin widening. "How about a special date on a yacht?"

Her eyes widened with excitement. "A yacht? Seriously?"

Charles nodded eagerly. "I thought we could spend the day cruising along the French Riviera, just you and me."

(Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat. "That sounds incredible!"

The scene shifted to the harbor, where a sleek yacht awaited them, its polished exterior shimmering in the afternoon sun. The captain greeted them warmly as they stepped aboard, the sound of seagulls mingling with the gentle lapping of waves against the hull.

As the yacht set sail, Charles and (Y/N) found themselves surrounded by the endless expanse of the Mediterranean. The wind tousled their hair as they stood on the deck, breathing in the salty sea air and marveling at the beauty of their surroundings.

"This is amazing, Charles," (Y/N) exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"I'm glad you think so," he replied, a smile playing on his lips. "But the best is yet to come."

As the yacht glided across the azure waters, Charles led (Y/N) to a table set up on the deck. The setting was nothing short of spectacular, with crisp linens, sparkling silverware, and a panoramic view of the sea.

A private chef emerged from the galley, bearing a culinary masterpiece. Platters of fresh seafood, succulent lobster tails, and delicate sushi adorned the table, accompanied by chilled champagne and decadent desserts.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in amazement as she took in the spread before her. "Charles, this is incredible!"

He grinned, his eyes alight with excitement. "Only the best for you, my love."

They dined in blissful contentment, savoring each bite as they gazed out at the endless expanse of the sea.

As the day waned and the sun dipped towards the horizon, Charles and (Y/N) retreated to the deck, where plush lounge chairs awaited them. They wrapped themselves in blankets, the cool breeze tinged with the warmth of the setting sun.

"I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed," (Y/N) remarked, leaning back in her chair and closing her eyes.

"It's the perfect way to unwind," Charles agreed, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers.

As they watched the sun sink below the horizon, painting the sky in a riot of colors, Charles produced a tablet from his pocket. "I thought we could watch a movie," he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes.

(Y/N) grinned. "I'd love that."

They settled in to watch their favorite film, the sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop as they lost themselves in the story unfolding on screen.

As the movie came to an end, Charles suggested a change of scenery. "How about lying down and stargazing?" he proposed, pointing to a cozy corner of the deck where cushions had been arranged.

(Y/N) nodded eagerly, and they made themselves comfortable, lying side by side and gazing up at the night sky. The stars twinkled overhead, casting a soft glow over their faces as they pointed out constellations and shared childhood memories.

"This is perfect," (Y/N) murmured, snuggling closer to Charles.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "Just like you."

As they lay there, bathed in the light of the stars and the warmth of each other's embrace, Charles and (Y/N) felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over them. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the French Riviera, they knew that this day would be etched in their memories forever.

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b0r3dtod3ath · 4 months

Note

hi! could i req lando x old money!reader blurb? maybe like meeting her parents, or going to her father’s annual christmas gala together, i dunno..

thanks!!

A/N: Hii! Omg I love this idea. Actually it popped up in my brain last summer but I never really wrote it so big thanks for requesting! Let me know if any of you are interested in a part two!

Word count: ~1.8k

Saint Tropez - one of the most popular places in French Riviera. Known for its beautiful weather, sun-kissed beaches and picturesque landscape. Every summer Y/N's family would spend at least a month there. Cruising on a yacht and resting in a mansion could get quite boring when done alone so last summer Y/N's parents invited the Norisses. The two families had been friends since the early 2000s, famously attending many high-society galas and events. Their kids used to know each other but haven't met in a long time due to their hectic lives. Lando would be a bit ashamed to admit but he was excited to spend his summer break there. Being with his parents made him feel like a teenager again. Not only that but also the fact that he couldn't wait to meet Y/N. He had heard about her from his sisters but in fact, has little to no memories of her.

As the families met at the dock, the yacht swaying in the background, the two couples hugged and laughed leaving the young ones to awkwardly greet each other. Y/N, taking off her sunglasses that protected her eyes from the sun reflecting in the blue water, approached with a subtle smile that held a hint of curiosity. She extended her hand, a gesture in a formal but warm manner. "Lando, isn't it?" her melodic voice hit her companion's ears. Lando, with his easy charm and green-blue eyes that would make most of the ladies lose their minds, clasped her hand in a firm yet gentle handshake. "That's right. A pleasure to finally meet you." His words were accompanied by a genuine smile, a sigh of relief.

The first evening brought the families together for a two-family dinner on the yacht's deck. The air was infused with the scent of sea salt and the warm sun was just to set. The table, covered with crystal and silverware, glowed in the soft light of candles. Y/N and Lando found themselves seated next to each other, their parents subtly orchestrating the arrangement. At first, they didn't talk to each other much - focusing mainly on the food and wine while also encouraging their parents to tell some stories from when they were young. The two of them exchanged glances and smiles still waiting for the other one to make the first move. After the last course, as the dessert and coffee reached its end, Lando found a moment to break away. Leaning towards Y/N, he suggested, "Would you care for a stroll around the yacht? The night is too beautiful to be just sitting here.". With a subtle spark in her eyes, Y/N agreed. The two of them excused themselves as they slipped away from their parents.

Under the moonlit sky, Y/N and Lando strolled along the yacht's deck, the soft glow of the ship's lights casting a warm ambience. The Mediterranean breeze whispered through the night, and the distant sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. They paused at the railing, the yacht gently rocking beneath them. Y/N leaned on the side, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Lando joined her, the moon casting a silvery glow on his face. As the conversation flowed, they peeled away the layers of their lives, revealing dreams and aspirations. They went from talking about Lando's work to more deep, secret thoughts and feelings. Y/N wanted to avoid the Formula One subject, she knew who he was but didn't want him to think that it was a category she put him in. She spoke about her love for literature, and although Lando didn't have much to say in this field he was more than happy to listen. He found himself getting lost in her beauty as she shared about her passion. The night held an intimacy, a shared exploration of vulnerabilities. Y/N, confessed her love for the quiet moments, the beauty found in simplicity. It was surprising to her when Lando agreed with her "I know I'm rather a fast-paced life guy but I feel like my lifestyle allows me to appreciate moments like this even more". Y/N finally looked up from the shiny waves crashing to the side of the boat to see the man next to her looking at her with admiration. They held eye contact and smiled in silence, the chillness of a summer night ignored. That night they both felt a connection forming between them.

A few days later, as no clouds hung over St. Tropez, Y/N found herself once again on the terrace. Immersed in the embrace of a plush chair, she was captivated by the ending of one of the books she found on a bookshelf. Lando, drawn to the lovely scene, approached with a warm smile. "Mind if I sit here with you?" he asked. "Of course, Lan. Please, join me," Y/N responded, gesturing to the empty chair beside her. As he settled into his chair, warm sunlight washed both of their bodies. Y/N, bookmarking her page, looked up with a soft smile. "Have you read 'The Great Gatsby' before?" Lando shook his head, "No, but I've heard it's a classic. What's it about?". Y/N went on trying not to say too much and Lando listened, captivated by the vivid imagery painted by her descriptions. After a comfortable pause, the girl looked into her companion's eyes "You know, they turned this into a movie. How about we watch it together later?" Lando's grin widened at this idea, "That sounds fantastic. I'd love to.". "Great, meet me in my room at 9pm, I will figure out some snacks." she said, got up and left him alone.

Lando found himself standing outside Y/N's bedroom door at 9 sharp. The air was filled with anticipation as he raised his hand to knock. A soft sound of footsteps and the clinking of plates hinted at Y/N's preparations within. Y/N opened the door, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Right on time. Come on in," she welcomed. The aroma of the room was very comforting, Lando couldn't explain it but it reminded him of Y/N a lot. He stepped into the dimly lit space, the flickering light from scented candles creating a cozy ambience. The room was decorated with touches of luxury, reflecting the social status of the family. Y/N, wearing comfortable yet stylish pyjamas, gestured towards the plush seating area she had arranged. "Make yourself at home. The movie is all set up," she said, her enthusiasm evident. As they settled in, the glow from the movie screen bathed the room in a soft luminescence. The cinematic adaptation of "The Great Gatsby" unfolded. Y/N and Lando shared the experience, their thoughts and emotions reflected in the glow of the screen. Throughout the movie, their laughter and shared comments added a layer of connection to the evening. The subtle tension between Gatsby and Daisy echoed in the room, mirroring the unspoken bond developing between Y/N and Lando. As the credits rolled, Y/N turned to Lando with a satisfied smile. "What did you think?" she asked, her eyes searching for his reaction. Lando, his gaze lingering on Y/N, grinned. "It was incredible.". To be honest, he didn't remember half of the movie as a beautiful person next to him captivated his attention. Y/N mirrored his smile. After a pause, Lando asked, "Do you think Gatsby's love for Daisy was genuine, or just an illusion he created?". Y/n leaned back, thinking about the question. "It's a bit of both, I think. Gatsby's love was genuine, but the illusions he created were born out of his desperation to recapture a past that had slipped away." Their discussion flowed seamlessly, weaving through literary analysis and personal interpretations. Deep eye contact was comforting and neither of them wanted to end it. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. Maybe we can make this a tradition. You should pick the next movie" she suggested, her eyes holding a promise of more shared movie nights.

And the days passed just like that. On the last night, as the clock struck midnight, the yacht sailed under a blanket of stars, the moon casting its silver glow on the deck. Lando, overwhelmed with his thoughts, wandered outside. The night air was infused with a sense of bittersweet anticipation. There, on the deck, he found Y/N, a alone figure under the dark sky. The distant sound of waves protected them from the silence. Y/N sat in contemplation, a cigarette in hand, the soft moonlight illuminating her features. "Mind if I join you?" Lando's voice cut through the serenity, and Y/N looked up, a small laugh escaped her lips as she retrospected on one of their first interactions. She allowed him to, the smoke from her cigarette to twist into the air. Lando sensed a subtle shift in Y/N's demeanour, a quiet sadness that hung in the air like the sea mist. "You seem a bit distant tonight," he remarked, his eyes tried to focus on the horizon but seemed to be too curious of her. Y/N took a drag of her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "I guess I've been thinking about tomorrow," she confessed, her eyes didn't even dare to look at him as it would cause even more pain. Lando nodded, a shared understanding passing between them. The unspoken bond they had formed over the past weeks had transformed the usually boring yacht trip into a place of shared laughter, quiet conversations, and stolen glances, making both of them feel like stupid teenagers who would sneak around behind their parents' backs. The impending departure, however, indicated an end to this state. "I'll miss this," Y/N admitted, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken sentiments. "I don't want this to end just because the trip does," Lando confessed, his voice steady. "Maybe we can explore what this could be beyond St. Tropez. I'd love the chance to continue getting to know you, to see where this could go." Sea, once the witness of shared stories and vulnerability, now observed the promise of possibilities.

Weeks passed since Lando and Y/N parted ways. Mornings felt different for Lando, mainly due to the lack of two things: sun and Y/N. He often catches himself wondering what Y/N could be doing at this very moment. Yes, he could just open Instagram and DM her but he felt like he needed to do something more refined. Although they got to know each other pretty well, he didn't want her to think that he was just a cocky, young fuckboy who wants nothing more than just a body. He had to show her that he truly cared about her. Then, one morning, a letter arrived. The envelope was outstanding, decorated with intricate patterns and sealed with a wax emblem. Lando's heart quickened as he recognized Y/N's handwriting, the anticipation building with each passing moment. As he carefully opened the envelope, Lando realized that their story was far from over. Whatever that envelope contained held the promise of a new beginning, a chance to reignite the spark that had ignited in the hot, summer days. With trembling hands, he opened the letter, his heart racing with anticipation.

my masterlist

here's a fic i wrote last summer that reminds me of this scenario

feb 5 2024

#writers on tumblr #fan fic writing #x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando Norris imagines

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mindblowingscience · 6 months

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Vibrio bacteria, named for their vibrating swimming motion, span approximately 150 known species. Most Vibrio live in brackish or salt water, either swimming free or living as pathogens or symbionts in fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and corals. Because Vibrio thrives at relatively high temperatures, outbreaks in marine animals are expected to become ever more frequent under global warming. For example, over the past few decades, Vibrio have been implicated in the 'bleaching' of subtropical and tropical corals around the world. Now, researchers from Spain and Turkey have shown that Vibrio bacteria also play a role in outbreaks of mortality of an unrelated sessile marine organism, the dark stinging sponge (Sarcotragus foetidus). The results are published in Frontiers in Microbiology. "Here we show that pathogenic Vibrio bacteria were abundant in diseased individuals of the dark stinging sponge, during a deadly outbreak first observed in late 2021 in the Aegean Sea," said Dr. Manuel Maldonado, a senior scientist at the Spanish National Research Council (CEAB-CSIC) and a co-author of the study.

#Science #oceans #Ecology #Vibrio Bacteria #biology #stem #zoology #Bacteria #sea sponge

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morethansalad · 28 days

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Blueberry Lavender Vegan Madeleines

#vegan #desserts #French cuisine #mediterranean cuisine #madeleines #lavender #edible flowers #blueberries #plant milk #lemon #vanilla #white chocolate #olive oil #maple sugar #sea salt

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acatnamedloki · 4 months

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Why Mycroft Canner is crying (and is the most sopping wet cat character of all time)

In the book 'The Will to Battle' Mycroft spends half the book crying so in order to recover from my insane Book Hangover I decided to write a list of all the reasons Mycroft is crying in this book (some of them are even valid!!)

If you haven't read Ada Palmer's 'Terra Ignotia' series, this list contains extremely out of context and vague spoilers and not a lot of plot information so give it a read and see if he's a character you'll like (and then read the series and go insane with me)

Chapter 2

Someone said they trust him

He's not exactly crying but he is sitting on a bench, hugging his knees and trying to ignore his hallucinations while people are debating the future of the human race (pure wet cat behaviour)

Chapter 3

He saw the Mediterranean sea

Now he's in Crete and the sea smells salty

He was told he couldn't join a meeting (to be fair, he just did a bunch of traveling to get to the meeting)

Chapter 7

He saw a pretty boy

Recovers for a bit, has a whole ass conversation then starts crying again for the same reason (also because the pretty boy is looking all sad and vulnerable)

Someone was kind to the pretty boy (he at least tried to weep silently here)

He found out someone cares about him enough to try and track him (OK but this bit is crazy because Mycroft was just beat up, is bleeding, kidnapped, has a collar of knives around his throat, tied up, electrocuted, pushed to the ground and having a heart attack. He is totally fine with this. But then starts sobbing out of GRATITUDE because he found out someone kinda sorta cares about him!!!!?)

Ok NOW he's finally crying because he's scared (he described it as "strange" that he was crying and "tinged my eyes with salt". Good job Mycroft! Way to under-react to the situation)

Chapter 8 (still kidnapped and just been double-stabbed)

Someone threatened to kill a 17 year old boy who Mycroft believes is god

Someone asked where Bridger was (ok this bit is actually sad I started crying too)

Someone tried to start WWIII and Mycroft had a mini freak out

He saw an old building covered in graffiti

He got told off because he didn't try to kill his kidnappers (Mycroft actually tried to protect??? the original kidnappers - this is kind of a nesting doll kidnapping situation)

Chapter 11

A really old document got stolen

Caesar (his sort of president/sort of master) is wearing a new suit (its noted that he is sobbing for like 3 pages here)

Chapter 12

Pride, relief and grief (an odd mix but ok)

Chapter 13

He was hallucinating and (understandably) freaked out. Then started crying when someone asked if he was ok.

Chapter 14

Theres like a super intense argument happening between Caesar and god

Caesar put a really harsh punishment on some people who deserved it and Mycroft had a full on existential crisis because he believes he deserved it too (like he passed out and started sobbing because he deserves worse? than being a slave?)

Chapter 19

The scary space people decided to join a war (not crying because a giant lion is sitting on him, happy because at least its muting his sobs)

Chapter 21

He saw some fireworks

#ada palmer #too like the lightning #Will to battle #Mycroft Canner #sopping wet cat behaviour #terra ignota

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

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Living With Ghosts: 4. Pretty Broken

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,150

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of blood and war

As much as I like Ghost’s demeanor throughout the game, I cannot help but wonder what he would be like suffering the aftereffects of war.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

It’s been days since you last talked to him.

His inattentiveness, however, was not the outcome of your petty little brawl—not the direct consequence, at least. If you had to venture a guess, it’s because he was busy with other matters at the moment—far more important ones.

The Russian Mafia appears to have increased its presence in the region over the past week, raising suspicions of a potential terrorist attack. As a result, the CIA has requested high readiness from the Special Forces operators deployed in the area.

That’s where he is, you fool. It doesn’t matter how abandoned, lonely, or insecure you feel, for he had a job to do. He was right there, at the front line, risking his life for the nation’s—and probably the world’s—safety. You were the last thing on his mind right now; if you ever were anything to him but a mild inconvenience.

Let’s not forget that you also had a part to play in this operation; to actively scan land, air, and sea for irregular traffic and report to the CIA.

Well, not actively, per se—the safe house has a well-equipped wine cellar for that specific purpose.

“Surveillance Control Center,” they call it—SCC for short.

What was once used to store ruby-red Chianti Classico Riserva bottles can now be confused with the cockpit of a spaceship. The CIA engineers have outdone themselves with this one—you give them that.

The SCC is part of a computer network connecting every CIA safe house in the Mediterranean. It incorporates CCTV monitors, cameras, radars, and motion sensors designed to detect unusual movements in the region. Live-streaming feeds are processed using highly sophisticated software, which, upon catching unusual traffic, alerts the SCC’s terminal. The wine cellar also houses an arsenal of weapons and ammunition, just in case the shit hits the fan.

Your job, for now, is to oversee the SCC’s flawless operation and inform Laswell of any findings.

Boring; that’s what your job was. Boring.

“Christmas is coming,” Laswell’s voice sounded over the telephone, “You guys should do something to celebrate.”

“Do what, exactly, Kate? Go from house to house and sing carols on behalf of the CIA?” You reply, leaning forward as if you were trying to physically get your point across.

“If you’d stop being a sarcastic shit, then perhaps you could think a little better.” Her irritation rasped in her voice. “Do something together; think of it as a team-building event.”

He said he’d fix that attitude of yours; when was that team-building event going to take place?

She was right, though—as much as you’d hate to admit it. Christmas does bring people together.

You begin to reminisce about the good times back home when your family used to celebrate every year. You used to cook together, sing along to festive songs, watch Mr. Bean on television, and exchange gifts.

You remember your mother, who refrained from buying ornaments from the shops. She used to bake them instead—yes, bake them. She used to roll out the dough, give shape to it with cookie cutters and bake the ornaments so you would all decorate the Christmas tree with them. The entire house smelled divine with these four little ingredients she used in her recipe—cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

Ingredients you already had in your pantry.

“Laswell, when’s my shift ending?” you asked in anticipation.

“It ended thirty-seven minutes ago. Tired of me?”

“I thought of something.” You announce, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“Wha-”

“I have to go. Over and out.” You report as you close the comms and head upstairs to the infamous pantry.

Cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

You were determined to make it work, right here, in this safe house—with or without Ghost.

You hurried outside, scanning the area for the tree branches he trimmed a few weeks ago. If you tie them together, you could create something resembling a Christmas tree.

When was the last time he felt the Christmas spirit? Does he have a Christmas tree at his house? A family to sing together next to the fireplace? A warm, festive meal?

You moved frantically—part Christmas elf rolling out dough and baking ornaments, part Frankenstein trying to assemble a Christmas tree monstrosity.

Time flew by; hours passed like minutes as you worked hard, your creativity unleashed, putting forth your best effort to create something out of nothing.

To create festive decor out of raw ingredients.

To construct a tree out of stray branches.

To form a connection out of two peoples’ broken pieces.

“What’s that smell?”

You were so focused that you didn’t notice him standing behind you.

You turn around to see a wreck, the fragments of a man who has probably seen terrible things and done far worse.

“I—is everything all right?” You hesitate.

“Out of trouble, for now.” He replies.

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

“Yes, I know. I spoke with Laswell. I mean, are you all right?”

“Been better.”

His uniform is dusty, and his boots are covered in mud. There is a slight rip on his balaclava, teasing you with a subtle view of his jawline, like a Geisha exposing her nape.

“It’s over, for now.” you try to comfort him.

There’s blood on his left sleeve—a lot of blood. He just became aware of it as well.

“Not mine.” He announces and hides it behind his back. “What’s that smell?” He repeats, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Cinnamon.”

“Ya bakin’?” He seems shocked.

“Sort of; They’re ornaments for the Christmas tree,” you say, pointing in the direction of your most recent creation.

“A Christmas tree.” He stutters, glazed eyes darting left and right, assessing the new environment.

You want to tell him that there are no booby traps here, nothing dangerous to be careful of. You want to console him that there is no need to be alerted for an ambush here, for this is a safe space. No more killing, no more death, for now. Just you two, a hideous Christmas tree, and badly shaped cinnamon-baked ornaments.

“Do you like them?” You ask reluctantly, trying to divert his attention from this week’s horrors. “I couldn’t find any cookie cutters, so I shaped them with a knife instead. I tried to make them look pretty, but some came out broken.”

“Aren’t we all?” he mumbles as he walks towards the Christmas tree.

“Aren’t we all exactly what, lieutenant—pretty or broken?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Pretty broken, kid,” he whispers as he picks up a shattered ornament. “Pretty damn broken.”

———————————————————————

Next ->

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #simon riley #cod mw2 #cod ghost

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mybeingthere · 7 months

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Ausfärbungen auf Federn / Teintures sur Plumes or Shades on Feathers is a sample book from 1915 with dyeing instructions and an 18-section foldout containing 143 dyed feathers. Published by the Bayer Company of New York City in English, French

and German, the book begins with instructions for dying feathers (clean them in soap and ammonia, then boil in salts and sulphuric acid).

Humanity has been colouring things for millennia. Scientists have found evidence of the first natural reds and oranges in tombs back to 2600BC.

Written in Greek, the Papyrus Graecus Holmiensis (also known as the Stockholm papyrus) is a 4th century CE codex of craft recipes compiled in Egypt. The work’s 15 leaves contain 154 recipes for the manufacture of dyes and colours used in fashioning artificial stones.

Recipe 101 is as follows:

“Cold Dyeing for Purple which is Done in the True Way”

“Keep this as a secret matter because the purple has an extremely luster. Take scrum of woad from the dyer, and a sufficient portion of foreign askant of about the same weight as the scum – the scum is very light – and triturate it in the mortar. Thus dissolve the alkanet by grinding in the scum and it will give off its essence. Then take the brilliant color prepared by the dyer – if from kermis it is better, or else from kirmnos – heat, and put this liquor into half of the scum in the mortar. Then put the wool in and color it unmordanted and you will find it beyond all description.”

Back then, purple was the marker of rank and class.

The most well-known shellfish dye was the Tyrian purple, royal purple or imperial purple as it was called, which came from sea snails in the Eastern Mediterranean in the ancient city of Tyre. This dye was very special for all the civilisations around the Mediterranean and its use spanned whole centuries. It was the most expensive dye in the whole of ancient world, as the colour it produced was very bright and colourfast. Because of its properties, its use was restricted for royals, members of the royal family, and senior public officers and priests.

Archaeological evidence points out that the ancient Phoenicians first discovered and used it (Tyre was an important Phoenician city). From them, it became known to ancient Greeks, Romans and through them in Byzantium and Medieval Europe. It was so sought after that the Byzantine emperor Theodosius I prohibited its use from the lower classes or the penalty was death. The privilege of using this purple dye is so profound that the phrase “born in purple” was born in that period. In Western Europe, it was replaced in prominence around the 12th century, and finally went out of fashion around the 19th century, when a synthetic purple was invented and thus it became more accessible to the wider masses.

https://flashbak.com/shades-of-feathers-a-beautiful.../

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ladylooch · 1 year

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Nico Hischier smut with maybe honeymoon sex? he loves calling you Mrs.Hischier and falls in love with the matching wedding bands

A/N: K yes. Like.. I saw the first sentence and was 100% invested in this. Mostly because I planned doing some sort of honeymoon smut for What My World Spins Around AU. But also because who doesn't want what's below this cut??? So here we go. We can always go back to the wedding if we want to 😉

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SMUTTTT (18+ Content)

Salty ocean air mixes with warm coffee in the early morning. The sunlight glitters off the sea as I savor the quiet moment by myself. Nico and I got married two days ago. It’s hard to believe the day already came and went, even as the large, diamond rimmed wedding band weighs my left hand down. We had everything we needed. Great company, incredible food, flowing drinks, and willing wedding guests that kept the party going well past 3 am. Nico and I were in a daze when we got to the Costa Brava region of Spain yesterday. We collapsed into bed, curled into each other and slept until this morning.

We rented a private villa along the coast with gorgeous Mediterranean views. The villa has five bedrooms, a large kitchen, multiple living spaces, and a pool-hot tub salt water combination that looks to die for. I am itching to get in there. I bring my coffee to my lips again, looking over my shoulder into the bedroom. Nico is there, stretched out on his stomach, arms crunching the pillow under his head. His few days of stubble and long eye lashes make his dreamy, prince charming look complete. The comforter has slid down his back to just below his hips. My eyes focus on the two distinct ridges of muscle that come together in a V there before disappearing beneath his boxer briefs.

The pool isn’t the only thing I’m itching for.

Weddings are a whirlwind of fun and exhaustion, so was getting here from Switzerland, and we haven’t had a chance to celebrate intimately. I look down at the robe I’m wearing, grinning at the white, provocative lingerie that waits for him whenever he decides to join me.

I don’t have to wait much longer. The sun shifts up the bed into his face and he squints out at me. When our gazes connect, I give him a coy smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Hischier.” He bites down on his bottom lip, tossing the comforter to the side and strutting towards me. He looks so damn good- toned and hard, but safe. He comes to the table, resting a hand on it and the back of my chair to enclose me into our kiss.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hischier.” He murmurs against my lips. His tongue snakes out, gently gliding along the seam of my lips. “Ooo, that coffee tastes good on you.” He licks his lips, reaching for the cup I extend to him. He takes a sip and closes his eyes in a brief moment of appreciation.

When he hands me the cup back, he sees a peak of my white bra. His fingers hook into the shoulder of my robe, pushing the fabric down to expose more of the top. His eyebrows peak in excitement as he runs a finger along the taut white strap, down my chest to run along the top of my right breast. Goosebumps pebble along my chest, following his finger as it moves to the other swell. My nipples tighten into hard buds against the lace fabric. Each of Nico’s fingers trail over them causing a feminine grunt to drop from my mouth. He loosens the tie of my robe to see the rest of the set. Two, thin bands hold the panties in place- one around my natural waist and one around my hips. The piece is finished off with white lace along the front and not much on the back.

“You’re going to be worth the wait, aren’t you baby?” He asks me, pushing the robe off my other shoulder.

“You tell me.” I whisper.

He kneels down on the ground to get level with me. His hands gently glide my legs apart so he can come closer. I watch his approach with hooded eyes. His head dips, lips pressing gentle smooches along my large, plumped breasts. My eyes close completely, fingers racing through his hair to gently scratch at his scalp.

He grabs the straps of my panties in his hands, pulling them off my legs to expose me to him and the ocean air. My chest is rising and falling in anticipation as he takes in the view.

“Mrs. Hischier, you’re soaked for me.”

“Make me come, babe.” I beg him as he takes his time raking his gaze over me.

“Right here?” He acts all scandalous. “Where the neighbors can hear?”

“Yes, please.”

“Mmm, only since you asked so nicely.” He chuckles. His large palms slide under me, gliding against the seat until he takes my full ass cheeks in his hands. He brings me slightly up to his mouth. I think he’s going to tease me, but he doesn’t. His full lips close over my clit, suckling my slick flesh into his mouth. My eyes close, then burst open in excitement as he laps his tongue generously against my folds. My inner muscles pulse, catching his attention. He glides a finger through my excitement, smearing it up my folds until I’m equally soaked all over. “You look so pretty, baby. All wet and pink, wearing my ring.”

This for the rest of my life? Fuck.

I drape my leg over his shoulder. His left hand moves from my ass, dragging his fingertips down my thigh. Each inch of my leg savors the coolness of his wedding band. It’s a new, exquisite feeling that I’m not sure I want to get used to. It accelerated the desire bursting through my veins. I look down at him working his mouth on me. He looks so good. He pulls away to focus his tongue against my clit. I snap my head back between my shoulder blades, howling to the sky.

“Little quieter, sweets.” Nico snickers against my quivering folds.

“No, It’s too good.” I moan as he works his tongue in just the right rhythm.

“Tell me more.”

“You’re perfect, Neeks. Please don’t stop. Fuck.” My body trembles as I feel the orgasm begin to descend. It starts from my core, slowly leaking, begging Nico for more as I push his face deeper in with my left hand. My wedding rings shimmers in the morning sunlight against his dark hair. I jolt, abdomen tightening, then turning into pudding as I come loudly and wetly against his face. Nico kisses me through the aftershocks, working his lips up the thigh still draped around his shoulder.

“I’m going to worship you like that forever.” He promises me as he places my leg back on the ground.

He stands, sporting a seriously large erection, reaching down to wrap his arms around my waist. He lifts me into his arms, carrying me back inside the bedroom where he tosses me onto my back, then nudges me to roll to my stomach. He hovers above me at the side of the bed, looking down at my spread legs, flushed cheeks, rapid breathing and wild hair. He likes what he sees, grinning, as he leans over me, underwear removed to slide into me.

As he pushes into my wet heat, he laces our left hands together. Our matching rings catch one another with his first thrust into me. I lay my head back against his shoulder as he begins to pump steadily. My teeth annihilate my bottom lip at the pleasure sweeping through my body. My breasts get heavy, begging for release into the air- for someone to touch them. I reach back half-heartedly to unclasp the band. Nico bats my hand away, undoing the hooks with his expert touch. My breasts bound free. Nico’s hand comes around, stroking my right nipple as he pushes deeper.

“Ohmygod.” I groan, letting my forehead fall to the bed. I arch my back into his thrusts as he increases his motion. He is pounding forcefully into me, giving me everything he’s got as the pent up emotions and celebration and lust guide his aggressive hips.

“Wish you could see how beautiful you look taking me like this.”

That gets me.

Stars explode behind my screwed shut eye lids as I come on him. I’m so loud. Swear words and groans fall from my lips as my breathing hitches higher and higher. I can feel his grin on my shoulder as he fucks me harder. I jolt, feeling a second orgasm come just after the first, making me wiggle against his firm grasp on my hips. He doesn’t relent, pushing us both over the edge again as I feel my overstimulated muscles grip his sputtering cock.

“Fuuuuuck.” Nico yells, slapping his hands over mine as he jerks his hips into me a final time. “Baby.” He moans when he is done. I can’t respond. My face is shoved so deep into the mattress that I can’t breathe or speak and I don’t care. He tries to pull out and my muscles clench in protest. He coasts himself back in, working himself out slower in small, gentle thrusts. “You’re not done with me?” He asks, reaching a hand around to grope my breast., thumbing my nipple into a hard peak.

“Not even close.” I say as I snap my head up hair whipping against his face as he jolts back in surprise. “Fuck me like that again.”

“I need a minute.” He says, eyes wide at my reaction. He strokes his hand along his softening cock, eyes glinting as he watches the fire in my eyes. “Who is this?” His smirk has me licking my lips greedily.

“Nico Hischier’s hot wife. You going to take care of me like you promised?” I challenge.

He launches forward, silencing any other words that want to come out of my mouth.

We don’t see much of Spain after that.

I’m a bit disappointed on the flight back to Switzerland, but Nico assures me we’ll be back again soon.

#nico hischier #nico hischier blurbs #nico hischier fan fiction #nico hischier smut #hockey writing #NHL fan fiction #my writing #writing requests #New Jersey devils

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