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ichorai · 1 year

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snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly.

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow.

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence.

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard.

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best.

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him.

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto.

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you.

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!”

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air.

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view.

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless.

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples.

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense.

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit.

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.”

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained.

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.”

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression.

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!”

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out.

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence.

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur.

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him.

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier.

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal.

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip.

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face.

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps.

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.”

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!”

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?”

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited.

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago.

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips.

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?”

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite.

“Oka—mmph!”

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper.

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you.

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you.

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara #spider-man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv fanfiction

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kiirschtein-archive · 1 year

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⋆ 「 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 (𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐦𝐨𝐦. 」 ⋆

feat. — toji fushiguro x f!reader, kid!megumi

word count. — 1.4k

content. — sfw, non-sorcerer au, established relationship (marriage), mostly just fluffy domestic stuff, reader is addressed as ‘mom/mama/mommy,’ toji’s kind of a bad parent but he’s working on it, brief mention of toji smoking (cigarettes), overprotective!toji, very minor suggestive themes (from toji 🙄 he’s a walking cw/tw)

notes. — idk. this has been incessantly on my brain pretty much from the moment i woke up today, even to the point where i was writing half of this at the laundromat lmao. mother’s day yesterday had me feeling some type of way, so here have some fun headcanons from a strange eldest daughter!!!! (i might end up doing a set of these for gojo x reader too 🤔)

⋆ 「 — he’s not your biological son, but you’ve been around since you started seeing toji when megumi was still a baby. but now, a few years later, you might as well be his real mother. you certainly act like it and feel like it, so toji gladly initiates the conversation about official adoption. it just makes sense. you eventually explain the situation to megumi as best as you can simply so that he doesn't grow up thinking he was lied to or anything of the sort, but as far as he's concerned, you're his mom whether it's by blood or not.

⋆ 「 — and oh, megumi’s a mama’s boy. i imagine he’s just a little bit of a healthier kid vs. canon given the better family situation, but he’s still always a bit of a grumpy baby, appreciating his autonomy and trying to be as self-sufficient and mature as he can be. but he’ll most certainly run to you when he needs help, is truly hurt, or just needing a bit of comfort. you’ve always treated him so softly and kindly with understanding, so he honestly feels more comfortable coming to you most of the time instead of his dad.

⋆ 「 — he likes the way you organize the bookshelf in his room or fold and sort his clothes in special little ways. he gets upset any time toji tries to put a book back in the wrong place or can’t figure out where his damn socks are. gumi will scowl and say, “that’s not where it goes.” or go deadpan and be like, “mom always keeps the socks in the bottom drawer.” disappointed that his father can’t even remember. toji just grumbles and says, “your mama’s gonna ruin you.”

⋆ 「 — has called you 'mom' basically since he was old enough, but don't let him fool you. megumi will drop the big boy act and come out with 'mama' or 'mommy' when something's wrong or he's really excited. he'll come to you with quiet tears and sniffles, a little ashamed that he's crying, but present to you a scraped elbow, "mama... it hurts." you clean up the scrape and explain to him the little medical details in a somewhat understandable way to help him focus on something besides the pain, and you tell him that it'll be okay, and that it's alright to cry. or on the flip-side, you and toji take him to the zoo, little gumi on his dad's shoulders, and he gasps and points excitedly, "look, mommy! look at the big elephant!" and it feels incredible to see him be so spirited.

⋆ 「 — along the lines of the art from this post and the thought i had about it earlier, just imagine that you're at some event (maybe like a birthday party or something), and toji's been hauling megumi around. they're both so over it at this point and are like 'please get me out of this' so as soon as toji walks past the obnoxious inflatable bouncy house, he smirks and just YEETS that kid inside without a second thought. after regaining his breath, megumi just looks at his father with the most EVIL little scowl as other kids bounce around him with smiles. by the look on that child's face you could've swore that his father had just done him the ultimate betrayal.

so gumi slides out and hurriedly makes his way over to where you're sitting off to the side, quietly climbing into your lap for a little bit of solace. he wiggles in close to your chest and you tuck him under your chin with a ‘come here, sweetpea,’ rocking slowly and humming something soft because he always seems to like it when you do.

toji comes over and you look at him through narrowed eyes. "kids are supposed to like shit like that," he says.

"you know he likes when things are more quiet," you respond, and toji rolls his eyes at how you seemingly spoil your son.

"just thought it might be good for him to try and get along with the other brats." toji tries to cover up the fact that he tossed his kid for the sheer personal enjoyment of it.

you huff in disbelief. "oh, like you get along so well with everyone?"

he scoffs and moves in behind you, leaning down to place a kiss on your neck. "i get along with you," he says almost suggestively.

you just keep stroking megumi's hair and give the top of his head a gentle kiss. "yeah, well not today," you say, shooting a smug, resolute smile towards your husband, ultimately taking his son's side.

⋆ 「 — outside of his alone time, megumi would honestly much rather be with you instead of other children. toji thinks it's probably unhealthy and you're inclined to agree, but you also don't want to force megumi into situations that will just make him miserable. so, when appropriate, you don't mind at all pacing around with him in your arms or have him walk next to you (maybe holding your hand if he’s not in a ‘big boy’ mood), teaching him about the things you see in the woods, the park, or even the museum. when toji's not away working, he'll join too because it admittedly makes his heart feel soft to watch you two together. it always has, because you've been doing this with megumi since he was a baby. it never gets old. if it wasn't already so difficult trying to figure out how to do things right by his son, he'd want you to give him even more babies.

⋆ 「 — megumi likes doing things with his dad sometimes too, though. toji tries his best to do it right and watch both his mouth and his temper. you like seeing them getting along, even if it's just quietly watching tv or a movie (probably a cartoon where toji gets kind of into and will ask the occasional question like "why does that one stupid chick keep doing that?" and megumi just shrugs like, "i dunno. she is pretty dumb.") or playing ball outside because gumi's starting to show some athleticism. but you have to remind toji that he can't always be so rough or competitive with games because megumi is literally a child.

⋆ 「 — toji can also be way too overprotective of you two at times. you'll be out and about and he'll just be wearing such an intimidating expression as he walks behind you both, on the lookout for anyone who might want to cause trouble or take the wrong sort of glance at his wife. he'll even snap at people for walking too close or like cutting in line or something petty, and you have to tell him stop acting like an attack dog and looking like the grim reaper because dear god you're literally just having lunch at the park. even at his age, megumi's just eating his ice cream and looking at his dad with his little baby deadpan expression and thinking "this man really needs to take a chill pill." other times he can be more relaxed, however, obviously confident in his ability to protect you. it depends on his mood. but that still doesn’t stop him from being embarrassing and going off on people in public if something happens.

⋆ 「 — you also know all of gumi’s favorite meals and snacks. it’s yet another one of those things where, if his dad does it wrong, megumi expresses a disappointment beyond his years. toji will be making and packing his son’s school lunch just as instructed by the notes you gave him, but it’s by no means as neat and meticulous as when you do it. toji’s got a cigarette hanging out of his mouth with furrowed, concentrating brows, his free hand shakily reaching for a cup of fresh coffee, and megumi’s standing there with his little backpack, criticizing his father the entire time. “mom doesn’t do it like that,” he says.

“well mom ain’t here right now. and it doesn’t matter how the sandwich is cut, is still tastes the damn same.”

gumi doesn’t even physically react, still wearing the same neutral expression, just waiting for his dad to hurry up. “mom says you shouldn’t smoke. and she also says not to use bad words.”

toji scoffs and then smirks. “well mommy uses all sorts of bad words you don’t even know about when her and daddy have play time.”

megumi’s already almost late for school and can barely feel his feet from how tight his dad tied his shoelaces. he also asks you later about “play time,” and you want to absolutely murder your husband over it.

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #c. — toji fushiguro #hc. — toji fushiguro #fluff. — toji fushiguro #c. — megumi fushiguro #hc. — megumi fushiguro #fluff. — megumi fushiguro #my writing.

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lemonlover1110 · 7 months

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖

Kento Nanami

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Summary: Your neighbor always watches you at night, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie, Nanami takes panties and doesn't give them back

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At nine at night, you get out of the shower and walk to your room with nothing but a towel. A towel that’s dropping and getting dangerously low with every step you take. You make no effort to hold the towel and it eventually drops to the ground– It happens nightly.

You don’t seem to care to close the curtains, you don’t care if the whole world sees you naked. And your neighbor shakes his head in disapprovement every time he sees. He sits on the armchair that’s in his room, facing his window, one that looks directly into your room as he sips on his nightly tea.

Kento watches you bend down to the lowest drawer, and grab a pair of panties. God, he feels so perverted doing this, but he isn’t a pervert. You’re showing yourself to the world, he isn’t at fault that his eyes just happen to look. He might be at fault for continuing to stare, but he isn’t a pervert.

Occasionally you make eye contact, and he’s bold enough to remain watching. And you’re bold enough to accidentally drop something, and remain naked as you slowly pick it up. You do everything much slower, really different from when you first walked into the room. Kento enjoys the show that you put on, putting everything on so painfully slowly so he can admire every inch of your body even from a distance.

Suddenly you have to get something from across the room, and you’re still naked. He can’t complain though, he likes the view, that’s why he continues admiring it. You grab your phone and lay down on the bed, where you indulge yourself in something– He doesn’t know what, but you’re entertaining yourself. His eyes still linger on your naked body, and he’s thinking of everything he’d do to you.

He finally feels like a pervert when he’s thinking of having you under him or on top of him, he doesn’t mind. He just wants to hear his neighbor’s cute little voice as she yells his name over and over again. He’d love to have a taste of her.

You look back at him again, where they make eye contact. You have a sly smile on her face before you stand up from the bed and finally put on your underwear and your pajamas. Kento is almost sad to have it be over so soon, he was hoping you’d put on even more of a show for him. He assumes it had to end eventually.

You walk over to the window, and you blow a kiss at your neighbor before you shut the curtain, leaving his field of view. The man stares back at his own reflection in the window, almost embarrassed by his actions.

He’ll see you tomorrow again, he’s not sure how he’ll face you. Perhaps he’ll apologize, even though he knows that at the same time tomorrow, he’ll do it all over again. He tries to focus his attention on the book that’s in his hand, but it’s hard to when he thinks about you, completely bare just like you were a second ago, only this time you’re in front of him.

Maybe he should man up and knock on your door. Or maybe he should stop being so perverted and focus on his book.

“Hey neighbor!” You wave excitedly at the man that’s unlocking the door to his home. Your voice makes him nervous, causing him to drop his key. You walk over to him with a smirk on your lips. You try to disguise it as a sweet smile when you’re in front of him, and Kento freezes in his spot when you’re right there. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He clears his throat before he speaks. His eyes look up and down your body, and they linger on the tight dress you wear. He looks straight at your cleavage, and his cheeks turn pink, picturing clearly how they look underneath your clothes. He’s seen you thousands of times walking around your room naked.

It’s surprising that this is the first time you approach him. Sure, you’ve talked but you’ve always had a reason to– Mail got mixed up, a package got delivered to the wrong house, you need a cup of sugar for baking; point is, there’s always something but today there doesn’t seem to be anything. At least not yet.

“Do you need something?” Kento asks, making your bottom lip stick out. He unlocks the door of his home and he opens it. He realizes how hostile his question sounds, and he assures you, “Not that I mind your presence but…”

“Just wanted to talk to you.” You respond. You take a couple of steps closer to him, and you bring your lips to his ear. You lower your voice and whisper, “Or am I out of line?”

“I– No, not at all.” Kento is caught off guard, and he tries his best to remain calm. You lightly bite down on your lip before you glance inside his house. “Do you want to come in?”

“If you insist.” You answer before walking inside the home. You want to walk straight to the bedroom since you know exactly where it is, but you decide that you want to chat first. You walk to the couch in the living room, taking note of how organized and clean the space is. Kento follows behind you, his eyes glued to your ass and thighs as you make yourself welcome in his home. “You have such a nice home.”

“Thank you.” He answers, watching as you take a seat on his couch and cross your legs. He stands in front of you, his arms crossing in front of him. “So… Do you have a conversation topic or–”

“I’m just surprised you haven’t made the move on me yet.” You interrupt him. “You’ve been watching me for a month straight, and yet you don’t even try to talk to me. You clearly like it since you keep watching.”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to make the first move? You’re the one that puts on the little show. Every single night.” He reminds you, making you click your tongue. He proceeds to take a seat beside you, his arms still crossed. His arms look so big and strong, and it takes everything in you to not stop the conversation and get on your knees. You need the man that sits beside you so fucking bad.

“I already do so much for you… You should have the common courtesy to at least thank me.” You tell him, your hand going to his bicep. He hums, raising his brow.

“Why did you come here? You want a thank you or…?” He asks, and you slowly nod your head in response. That’s when his hands go to your thighs, while his face inches closer to yours. He lowers his voice and he asks, “You don’t want a simple thank you, do you?”

“What do you think?” You smirk at him, and he chuckles before his lips land on yours. It’s the least the man can do after watching you every single night. Your tongue swipes his bottom lip before it enters his mouth and presses against his own. His hand goes under your dress, going to your panties. His finger hooks under the cloth and he begins to pull your panties down.

Kento pulls away from the kiss, kissing down your neck before he begins to suck on your skin. You help him pull down your panties, and within seconds they’re down by your ankles. The man reaches down to take the panties, stuffing them in his pocket. His fingers begin to run through your folds, and before he can do much you tell him, “You wanna do this here? Or in your bedroom?”

“Why?” He asks, pulling away. You stand up from the couch, grabbing his hand and leading him to the stairs of the home.

“Just wanna see it.” You answer. You can easily guess where his bedroom is, and you’re assured when your eyes land on the armchair that you always find Kento sitting in. You stand still for a moment, deciding where you want to go next, and you feel Kento unzip the back of the dress. You laugh, “Aren’t you eager?”

“I just want to say my thanks.” Kento says as he takes the dress off you. Of course you aren’t wearing a bra, he noticed when you walked up to him but he didn’t want to baselessly assume. His hands go to your breasts, his fingers rolling and playing with your nipples.

“You’re too kind.” You answer, your body leaning back so your head rests on his chest. One of his hands going down to your pussy. His ring and middle finger run through your folds before he begins to play with your clit. You look up at him, and he’s smirking as he looks down at you.

“Is this good enough? Or should I do more?” He asks, and you swear you’ve never been turned on more by a voice. He’s nearly driving you to your knees. You’re squeezing your thighs, and you’re biting down your lip as you look up at him. There’s so much desire in your needy eyes. “Aren’t you pathetic? Cat got your tongue?”

“I need more.” You answer, and he gets his fingers wet enough with your slick before he pushes his middle and ring finger inside your cunt. A soft moan leaves your lips as you feel his thick fingers fill you up. You’ve gotten a glance at them a couple of times, and you always had the thought of how they’d feel inside of you. Now that you feel them, you’re cursing yourself for not making a move sooner.

“Your pussy feels so nice.” He comments as he slowly moves his fingers in and out of you. You begin to moan as Kento’s thumb begins to toy with your clit. He’s making you feel so good, you’re nearly putty in his hands even though you haven’t been with him for long. “You sound just like I expected.”

“Fuck–” You mutter, shutting your eyes as pleasure slowly gets the better of you. You make the cutest face that your neighbor has ever seen as your orgasm approaches. You slowly start to get louder as pressure builds up in your lower abdomen. There’s a smug smirk on Kento’s lips before he does an evil action– He takes his fingers out of your pussy.

He brings his fingers up to his lips, and takes them into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around them to get a taste of you, and you taste just like he imagined. He hums. “You taste just how I expected too.”

“I thought you were going to thank me?” Your brows are furrowed as you look at him, irritated that he took your orgasm from you. His eyes look at the window, and your eyes follow lead. You’re confused as to what you’re supposed to be looking at, until you realize he’s looking into your room.

“You hate closing that curtain.” He comments, his hand putting pressure on your back so you begin to walk to the window. When you’re mere inches away, he pushes your back to the window, your hands landing on the spotless glass. “You really have no shame.”

“That’s why I’m here.” You respond as you hear him unzip his pants. You eagerly wait for his cock, and it feels like he’s taking his sweet time to undress– You have no idea why, all he has to do is take off his pants (matter of fact, he’s just unzipping, not even taking them off). You’re too impatient, that’s why.

“I’m glad you are. Always putting on a little show for me. It makes my night better.” You feel the tip of his cock run through your folds. You shake your ass, wanting him to hurry up because you can’t wait any longer. He slaps your ass in return, causing a whine to leave your lips. You feel his breath on your ear before he whispers, “Be patient, I’m not running anywhere.”

“I need you so bad… Please.” You sound so fucking pathetic. He finally pushes his cock inside of you, and your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head as his cock stretches you out. He’s bigger than you expected, but you aren’t complaining.

The man hisses as he feels your warm cunt wrap around his cock. He shuts his eyes as he takes it all in. You feel better than what he thought, and fuck, it’s taking everything in him to not lose control. Shamelessly watching you as you walked around naked in your room was enough for him but after getting a taste of you, he doubts that just watching through the window will be enough.

He gives you a moment before he begins to move. His nails dig into your soft flesh as he tries to set a steady pace. He watches your ass move with each of his thrusts. His hand pulls on your hair before he presses your face on the window, making sure your makeup leaves a mark, “You get to see my view now– Minus the goddess that blesses me at night.”

His cock is hitting every right spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, and you hate the fact that you doubted that he did. Maybe you should’ve stopped the teasing and walked up to him earlier.

The hand that holds on your hip goes under and begins to play with your clit, and you’re convinced that the man is set on driving you wild. But you’re also driving him insane by how your cunt squeezes around him. You’re thankful he lives alone because you can’t control how loud you are; although the window does help suppress your loudness.

“What a tight little pussy. Even better than what I expected.” He praises. He works you up, and it doesn’t take too long for your orgasm to build up, especially after the one he ripped away from you. You begin to get tighter around his cock, and you hear as he groans in pleasure.

“Oh– Fuck–” The biggest smile forms on his face when you finally reach your climax– You feel as the liquid leaves your body, and you’re sure they’ve stained his pants. You could die of embarrassment mainly because you don’t see the excitement in his eyes. He’s only pissed off that you didn’t squirt while his face was buried between your legs.

He has to have you again, simply for you to squirt while he’s eating you out. That thought makes him think that maybe he is the pervert that he claims he’s not. But he doesn’t give a shit when you’re so pretty and you feel so good wrapped around his cock.

His thrusts begin to get sloppy and he becomes louder. He wants to finish inside of you and fill you up with his seed– But he’s a gentleman… A perverted one, but regardless, a gentleman. He has to at least try to ask, “Inside or outside?”

“Inside.” It comes out muffled but he hears it, and when he finally reaches his release, his cum fills up your warm cunt.

He stays still for a moment before he finally pulls out his cock and puts it back into his briefs. He watches his cum drip out of your cunt, and he takes two fingers to push his seed back in. You take a moment to sit back on the bed that’s near you, staining his tan comforter with his cum. You feel embarrassed as you look at the makeup that’s on the window, and as you remember the fact that you squirt all over him.

“Sorry…” You mutter, and his brows furrow.

“What for?” You point at the pants. He chuckles. “You’re coming over again so you do that all over my face.”

It does take you by surprise.

“I have to start dinner soon, so you can either stay and join me, or leave.” He says, and it sounds like a tempting offer to stay and have dinner with him but you doubt you can wear that tight dress for too long. You wore it for him to take it off you. He watches as you ponder and reflect on your options. “Either way, I’m expecting to see you at nine.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento smut #nanami kento #kento x reader #kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #kento nanami x reader #nanamin #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami fanfic

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pucksandpower · 19 days

Text

Welcome to Miami

Lando Norris x Messi!Reader

Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months

Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy

Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with

You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.

Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.

The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.

Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.

You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.

As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.

You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.

When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.

But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.

When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.

Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.

The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.

How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?

A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.

Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.

God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.

No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.

You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.

But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?

***

You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.

How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.

The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.

You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”

Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.

His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.

You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”

To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”

You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”

A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.

It all fits.

“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.

Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”

There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.

“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.

But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.

“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.

Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.

You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”

You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.

“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.

Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.

“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.

You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.

No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.

***

Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”

“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.

“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.

“This is Lionel Messi.”

Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.

“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.

Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”

Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.

There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.

Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.

He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...

Oh shit.

“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”

Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!

“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.

Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”

The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”

“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”

There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.

Leo Messi’s daughter.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?

His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.

Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?

Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.

The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.

When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.

***

The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.

He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?

A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.

Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”

The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.

The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.

Get it together, man. This is it.

All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.

Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.

Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t like you.”

The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.

“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.

The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.

You.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.

He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”

“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.

An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.

“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”

The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.

“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”

He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.

His kid.

You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”

The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.

“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”

The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.

Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.

“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”

With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.

You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”

Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.

An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.

Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”

Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”

Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”

Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”

You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.

“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.

“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.

Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.

You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.

“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”

You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”

“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.

Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.

***

Ten Months Later

The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.

“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”

Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”

“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”

“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”

Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.

“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.

You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”

Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.

“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”

“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”

Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”

Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.

“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.

“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”

“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”

“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”

Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.

“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.

You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.

“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”

“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”

The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”

The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.

Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”

Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”

With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.

“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”

That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”

You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.

“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”

“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.

The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.

“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.

Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”

You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”

The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”

With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.

Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.

“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”

You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”

Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.

As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.

So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.

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viewerspookyhappenings · 15 days

Text

okay buckle up chuckle fucks here is everything i remember from tonight (absolutely missing some stuff)

- before dan comes on he introduces himself over the speaker stating that he asked phil to do it and phil said no because he didn’t want to be sat behind a curtain for an hour

- dan comes on stage and stands in the big church plinth thing (iconic)

- he tells a story about how he went to a&e the day before yesterday because he had sore eyes. says phil was trying to get him to put eye drops in but he was being very dramatic so whilst on the phone to 111 phil knelt over him lying on the bathroom floor holding his eyes open to put drops in. dan then went to hospital to check it and everything’s fine (lol) he just needed some special eyedrops. phil did not accompany him and dan had to cross a dual carriageway on his own whilst not being able to see well (i doubt he will ever let it go)

- here is a diagram i drew on the way home to depict said event

- it is also giving this

- spoke about the butt chair. union chapel said they did not have any furniture for him to borrow so he had to bring his own - he bought the butt chair from his bedroom and a lil plant to decorate. said phil carried the plant to the car but made dan get the chair in the uber and then said “okay have fun at work sweetie” (this was said jokey but we died nonetheless)

- he then talks about pissyourselffordan trending and how he had to explain to harper collins what the actual fuck was happening on stan twt. apparently they were glad the fans were supportive and he has an engaged audience but they were not going to use the hashtag in the promo. called the whole scenario pissgate and the crowd chanted piss at him

- he was told there was wine and advertised wine before realising alcohol was not allowed in the church. he then got given a sprite and everyone screamed that it was piss

- talked about the book and the previous release, how weird covid was, talked about the photoshoot for the book cover and the graphic design. said he didn’t love the pics because they were super dramatic. someone shouted “it’s cunty” he replies: “oh it’s cunty is it?” then realises he said cunty in a church which was a big lol

- he then read the new chapters, several mentions of phil not being supportive and abandoning him at the hospital (he talked about phil a lot it was very sweet)

- then brought out dan’s slit (box used to put questions in before the show)

- the questions i can remember include but are not limited to:

- what was the weirdest position you wrote the book in: “cheeks out in an armchair curled up over my laptop, you might think your scrolling posture is okay now but when you hit thirty you will all be broken”

- fave comfort show: “the office - is the office a bit millennial? it isn’t as millennial as friends. ross being offended by a manny? that’s where my internalised homophobia is from”

- how has the gaming channel affected your mental health? A: he is finding it a lot more sustainable than before because of help with editing, but will see where it goes

- will he ever judge drag race: he didn’t want to when he was asked because he didn’t want to be exposed to more speculation about his sexuality at the time, same with strictly come dancing

- how do you cope with feeling lonely whilst surrounded by people: talked about how online friends are truly real friends and distance doesn’t have to determine friendship levels. says it is important to notice the friendships even that aren’t close

- i can’t remember the question but he said that phil has to remind him of some of the stuff that is in ywgttn when he struggles “i literally learnt the word catastrophising from your book dan come on”

- another tour? “do you guys want that” *screaming* “what would it be?” *dan and phil games screams* “well 👀👀”

- are we going to get more sister daniel: *everyone loses their minds* “maybe i should have done it for the church but it is far too exposing under the spotlight”

- did you work in the asda in Lower Earley: “what in the baby reindeer? yes i did”

- then went to the insta questions that were too inappropriate for the audiobook including

- piss

- will you wear wigs

- when will you wear wigs

- how long is your big toe “six centimetres - i don’t have a big toe im just a long person”

- pee pee poo poo time

- what were the other names for the book: “you will get through this was a bit cliche, you will get through this night? she is sexy and mysterious. at first we wanted to call it “you are messed up read this to fix your issues” but then realised the book was more serious in tone after it was finished so went with ywgttn instead”

- i genuinely can’t remember most of these i think i dissociated a lil at this point if anyone remembers please add

- then read the author’s note at the end of the paper back, talking about how lockdown impacted him and was a big scary thing and also how incredible it is to see people recommend it, find it useful, have therapists recommend it etc. “it is an honour to have created this”

- took a selfie with everyone

- someone gave him a bouquet of flowers and he said “aww you guys are so gay”

- then said “if you enjoyed seeing me in person… i’ll see you again very soon”

this is everything i remember off the top of my head so people please feel free to add what i have forgotten!!

and here are all the pics i got!!

#dnp #dan and phil #daniel howell #amazingphil #dapg #ywgttn #dan howell #phil lester #phan #dnpgames #dapgames

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heeliopheelia · 25 days

Text

LACY (p. jay)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

includes: oral (f receiving), fingering, crying, insecurities, soft dom! jay, praising, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, hate comments

word count: 3.4k

synopsis: 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘫𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩

guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist

Looking at your phone makes you want to throw up.

“out of literally everyone he pulls… that? gotta be a joke”

“jay deserves sm better”

“if that thing got a chance with him that means i’d be unstoppable”

“pls tell me this is a joke”

“girlie gotta have a crazy head game cuz ain’t no way lmfao”

As if you don’t feel bad enough about yourself already.

Ever since the photo of you and your boyfriend coming back from a date leaked to the internet, there’s been nothing but a ridiculous amount of hatred directed towards your clueless self.

In the morning Jay’s text saying please stay offline today baby was enough to make your stomach churn without even knowing what was actually happening. And against his words and your common sense, your fingers instantly went to the first better social media app on screen’s your homepage.

And so with every single comment put out on the internet, you feel your confidence and self-worth slowly crumbling down until they have eventually worn you out and you’re nothing but a sobbing mess ever since the morning. Your head hurts from all the crying yet the slightly masochistic part of yourself doesn’t let you tear your gaze away from the screen.

Maybe it’s because deep down you’ve always felt like you’re not good enough to be dating such a man as Jay, and the insecure thoughts he’s worked so hard to bury six feet underneath your feet have just resurfaced once again.

Knowing he’s surrounded by almost literal embodiments of the beauty standard on a daily basis and then having to come home to a plain nobody like you can’t be good for no one’s mental health, that’s for sure.

“Baby?”

The lump stretches your throat too painfully for you to make any other sound than the whimper you let out, and soon you hear Jay’s footsteps approaching your suffocatingly silent room.

“Are you there, love?”

You press your trembling lips together and nod your head, trying to force yourself to stop being so emotional for once. The last thing you want him to do is deal with… this, whatever your current state is.

“You’ve been reading the comments,” he points out quietly, but not with accusation – only worry. His heart squeezes with desperation to somehow make you feel better, yet you take his silence as a sign of disappointment in you.

And somehow you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, too swallowed by shame.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper eventually after a couple beats of silence. Your head drops lowly onto your bunched up knees. “I just had to see it myself.”

“Hey, no more twitter, no more instagram – no more,” Jay pleads softly as he carefully takes your phone out of your weak grasp and sets it on the bedside table, only to thread his fingers through yours and intertwine them together. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please, stop crying, beautiful. They don’t deserve your tears, hm?”

A sob rips out of your throat and echoes through the silent room, simultaneously breaking your boyfriend’s heart in two. “It’s just… I-,” you’re unable to finish your sentence with the hundreds of thoughts running around your mind, not giving you a moment of peace since hours ago.

“I know nothing I say will make you feel better now,” Jay whispers, shuffling closer on the bed until his chest is pressed against your shoulder and he envelops you in a protective embrace. He presses a warm kiss to your temple. “I love you. I hate to see you like that, honey.”

You nod your head, sniffling loudly and choking on your own sobs. “I love you too,” you cry quietly, moving your head to rest against his chest. “I just don’t feel good with myself right now.”

Jay hums. His hands blindly reach to your face to wipe your tears away, fingers gently caressing your damp face. “I know.” His words are muffled by your hair as he nuzzles his face in it. “I’m sorry.”

You can clearly hear the violent beating of his heart from your position and the insides of your stomach twist with sadness because you know well he’s blaming himself for everything. He promised to protect you at the beginning of your relationship, forever and always, and yet he’s failed at the one thing that should’ve been of the highest importance to him.

He felt conflicted about his job more times than he would like to admit. The constant restrictions, always having to watch his words and actions, the almost non-existent privacy – it was tough, annoying, but he could take it.

But he’s never hated being who he is more than he does right now. Seeing the person he loves the most, the person who holds his entire world, being in such a miserable state because of his job makes him feel just so helpless.

Swallowing his self-pity, Jay soothes you as gently as he can. His fingers thread through your hair, waiting patiently until your heavy sobs turn into hiccups and eventually small whimpers.

“I chose you, YN,” he finally says softly, hand pushing the hair sticking to your face away as the other one cups your cheek and brings you to look at him. “I chose you and I’d choose you over everyone else. It’s always going to be you. Always.”

You blink your lashes heavy with tears, cheeks stinging from the excessive amount of them that has dropped down your face. He nudges your cheek with his nose before pressing a gentle kiss to your brow bone. This tender gesture and his words finally allow the smallest smile to appear on your lips.

“There’s my pretty girl,” Jay giggled. His arms wrap tighter around you before he lifts you up and pulls you onto his lap. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t fully love yourself yet, I can do it for the both of us for now, baby. Please, believe me.”

You nod your head, now choked up for a whole different reason. You let him lean in and join your lips together in a sweet kiss. His knuckles caress your cheeks and chin as he plants a chain of pecks on your swollen mouth.

He tries to break the kiss but you don’t let him get too far away, pulling him back in by his neck and crashing your lips together again, this time more desperately. Jay’s fingers slip into the loopholes of your pants, bringing you closer and closer until there’s no space left between your chests.

The hushed I love you’s coming out from both of your mouths, his warm lips sucking a kiss after kiss on yours, his hand that drops down and sneaks underneath your top to linger over your skin – you’re becoming dizzy from the overwhelming love you’re being given.

“I’ve achieved everything because of you, love. I am who I am because of you,” he breathes out into your lips, forehead bumping against yours. One last time, he kisses the whatever is left of your tears away, then goes back to your hungry lips. “I’d give you the world if you asked me to. Let me take care of you, like you always do for me.”

With a strong move, he pulls you off his lap and lays you down on the plushy bedding. You shiver when the warmth of his body leaves you, only to catch your breath when he drops to the ground with the dull sound of his knees hitting the wooden floor.

His warm hands rub your thighs soothingly, palming your inflamed skin before his lips follow their lead and pepper small kisses all over them, gradually traveling higher. You can hardly breathe from the tension, impatiently waiting for his every next move, the exhaustion in your body making you feel everything tenfold.

The whisper you let out is strangled because of the prominent tingling in between your thighs. “I need you, Jay.”

With a hum of acknowledgement, he unzips then takes off your pants along with your underwear, discarding the clothes somewhere on the floor blindly. Breath hitches in your throat when he leans forward and finally buries his face between your legs, lips softly grazing your warmth.

His hands push on your inner thighs, holding your legs wide open as he leans down and presses a kiss to your pussy. A jolt shoots through your body when his teeth brush over your clit before he ducks his head down and engulfs it with his warm mouth entirely.

A shiver runs down your spine when his tongue runs flat against your clit, another but longer lick following right after. Your fingers clench on the duvet beneath you as you pant and whimper with every move that he makes.

Jay’s thumbs circle and press on the smooth skin on your thighs, he himself humming and grunting into your pussy as he slurps you up.

You’re perfect, so perfect in his eyes, yet the angle is still not satisfying to him, constantly searching for a better access to your quivering hole. Suddenly, his arms wrap around your knees and he swiftly lifts your legs further up, almost folding you in half as he sinks his mouth in your wetness again, groaning at how much better he can eat you out now. Properly.

A loud moan ripples from your throat and you jerk in his hold violently, not expecting him to just manhandle you like this. You’re just there, mind blank and eyes fluttering shut when Jay pushes his tongue into your hole, fucking and stretching you with it as best as he can. He’s being so loud with it, so nasty that you can’t help but surrender yourself to him completely, losing yourself to him over and over again.

Two of his warm fingers circle your weeping hole before letting them sink inside slowly, gently. With the addiction of his nose brushing over your clit, his tongue never halting its movements and now working in harmony with his fingers, you’re barely responsive.

You mewl and whine breathlessly, sweat starting to create a thin layer on your worked up body. Jay pulls away to take a breath and admire your blissed out face, long fingers curling up, and he ducks his head to cover your sensitive thighs with marks and bites.

“Aah, s’ good,” you slur out, arching your back off the bed slightly.

“Yeah? You like that, baby?” Jay asks, sucking one last hickey on your inner thigh before moving back to your needy cunt. You can only hum in agreement, the noise quickly turning into another string of moans and wails as you feel your approaching high.

Jay cranes his neck to get to you at the best angle, one that will help you reach your climax the fastest. He didn’t even realize when his now hard cock started rutting against the bed slowly, only focused on you and you only, restraining his own pleasure.

You open your mouth to warn him of your incoming release but before you can do that, Jay speeds up the movement of his fingers and has you coming within a second, a loud cry of his name on your lips serving as honey for his ears.

He drags his face away from your glistening pussy to take a look at your face.

You’re so beautiful, so perfect, soft and all his.

“My prettiest,” he murmurs, planting a bunch of kisses against your thighs and stomach before lifting himself on his arms and crawling to get you to face him, laying breathlessly beneath him.

He lowers himself to kiss you right on the lips, the slick from his face smearing against yours slightly but you’re too far gone to pay it any mind.

“I love you,” is all you’re able to choke out in a whisper. Jay smiles and brushes his nose against yours, kissing you once, then twice and thrice before letting you fill your lungs again.

“I love you more.”

And as much as you want to protest at first, you realize that he might be actually right. There’s no doubt of your feelings or devotion to him, you gave him your entire heart a long time ago, entrusted him with all you are and had enough faith in him to never make you regret your decision.

But no one loves like Jay does. His love is pure and raw, coming from the depth of his heart and overshadowing all other feelings you’ve ever harbored to another man.

That’s how you also know that no matter anything you’ll always end up together, overcome everything.

His gentle hands grab the bottom of the t-shirt you’re wearing, his actually now that he takes a better look at it, then lifts it up, revealing your perky breasts to him. He plants kisses against them, simultaneously unzipping his pants and kicking them down to the floor. His boxers are discarded next and you help him unbutton his shirt with your shaky fingers.

“Make me yours,” you say into his lips once you’re done with that, hand pressed against his cheek.

Your words are enough to send Jay’s patience out the window, and he’s lifting your leg to hook it over his waist before sinking his hard cock inside you, your walls instantly sucking him in to the hilt. He groans at the warmth that engulfs him, squeezing him so tightly he can barely move.

Your heart pounds in your chest, blood rushing to your cheeks at the intimacy, his eyes boring into you lovingly. Because that’s what he is. Utterly, hopelessly lovesick.

His chest heaves above yours for a moment as he lets you adjust and relax around him before settling for a slower and deep pace. Your breaths get ragged quickly, listening to the filthy squelching whenever he pulls out of you only to sink in further each time.

“See, baby? It’s all good now,” he rasps, sweaty hair beginning to cling to his forehead because of the stuffiness in your bedroom. “You don’t need anyone else. Only me. I’ll take care of you.”

“Only you,” you repeat after him, watching his eyes sparkle and eyebrows furrow.

He lets out a chuckle, out of breath. “Good girl.”

His hold on you tightens as he fucks into you, his large hand slipping to the back of your head and pressing your face to his neck. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic and messy, and the only thing you’re able to do at the moment is whine desperately into his skin and wrap your other leg over his hips, thighs clenching his sides even tighter.

You feel better. You feel heavenly. You feel loved.

He bullies his way so deep inside you that you feel as if on the verge of blacking out. It’s so good. You’re pretty sure you’re going to leave a drool stain on your boyfriend’s toned shoulder once you pull away from there as you’re just unable to close your mouth for a second, too fucked out to have any control over it now.

“Can I go a little faster, sweetheart?” Jay asks.

You whine into the junction of his neck. “Mhm.”

And so he does, his touch growing in intensity as well. He lets go of your neck and your head falls back onto the pillows and you finally get to look at his face, expression so soft and tender, and a stark contrast to the way he fucks you.

Your stomach sets ablaze with every loud clap of his hips against yours, his precum making a mess on your thighs.

“Fucking hell,” he moans lowly, not being able to get enough of the doe-eyed look you’re giving him. He didn’t know it was possible, but he thinks he loves you even a little more than yesterday.

The sloppy sound of your wet skin colliding with his ricochets off of your bedroom’s walls and your eyes water again – this reason completely contrasting to the earlier heartbreak. Jay is here to kiss all of your tears away, his warm lips tracing your cheeks and collecting every salty droplet that falls on your skin.

You throw your head back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. And then he reaches down with the one hand that’s not holding you, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and rubbing circles on it, making you grow lightheaded again.

His never ceasing thrusts keep hitting your g-spot, without even giving you a second to breathe.

“J-Jay,” you whimper, voice wet and small, and he knows exactly what you want to communicate to him.

You fall apart in his arms as your orgasm hits your sensitive pussy even harder this time, making you squirt with a shallow gasp for air. You feel completely owned by him at the moment.

Jay’s eyes roll to the back of his skull for a hot minute, his cock aching and twitching as your walls spasm and squeeze him mercilessly. He buries his face in your neck now, nibbling under your ears and panting heavily against your skin.

Jay cums hard, probably harder than he ever has before – all because he knows he’s fucked you so good you can’t stop shaking in his arms. His own thighs begin to quiver a little as he ruts his emptying cock into your warm pussy, filling you up so nicely.

It’s the choked up wail that leaves your throat that spurs him into pushing more of his throbbing length into your sensitive self. His warm cum fills you to the brim, seeping slowly onto your thighs, yet he keeps snapping his hips against you slowly. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Take it all.”

Your lips part and when he pulls away from your neck, he immediately slides his tongue against yours. His kisses are sloppy and hot and wet but that only pushes you even further into the state of bliss, completely losing your mind for the man above you.

Your back is arched, making you press your chest into his forcefully as you jolt and twitch from overstimulation as he pulls out his soft cock out of you carefully.

Jay’s lips press to your temple warmly with a soothing intention. You try to catch your breath, body sweaty and clammy just like your hair. Yet you look just as pretty as ever to him. His prettiest girl.

He collapses onto the bed next to you and lets you cling to him for as long as you want to, holding you tightly to his chest and drowning you in praises and compliments. It’s only when he notices that your eyelids are growing heavy that he gently pulls you away and up from the bed, steadying your wobbly self on the rug beside your bed.

You look at him in confusion, eyes misty and tired and he can’t help but giggle and kiss you one more time. “We should probably take a shower first,” he flicks your nose when you scrunch it up slightly but then you nod your head.

When you start walking into the direction of the bathroom, goosebumps spiking your skin despite the hot temperature in the room, you turn around and frown when you notice that Jay has stayed behind you.

“You’re not coming, love?” You ask but he shakes his head.

“You go first, baby. I’ll be right there in a second.” He nods his head to the ruined bedding. “Gotta change the sheets first.”

You flush as you take in the mess you’ve both made. “Right,” you mumble and then disappear behind the door.

When you’re both showered and back in the bed together, you’re propping yourself on your elbows, trying to reach the switch of the lamp on the bedside table. You don’t get far when Jay’s arm wraps itself across your torso and brings you back down, right into his chest.

“Stay,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face in your hair.

You giggle quietly but give in and lay comfortably, half on the bed and half on your boyfriend. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jay hums lowly. “I mean forever. Stay with me forever.”

You look at him, eyes slightly widening despite how tired you are, and his words take your breath away when you realize he’s dead serious. You’re at a loss of words, looking at the man by your side, stunned, yet he only smiles lazily and brings your hand to his lips to press his warm lips against your knuckles.

“Marry me.”

Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately

And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you

taglist: @luvkpopp @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart @seokseokjinkim @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @somekpopshiteu97 @enhypens-hoe @alpha-mommy69 @jwnzlvr @wondipity

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @kissestojapan

note: i actually really like how it turned out xx

#carly's 2k event ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard hours #park jay x reader #jay x reader smut #jay x reader #park jay imagines #park jay smut #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay smut #jay hard hours

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cherry-leclerc · 1 month

Text

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad.

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away.

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp eyebrows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed.

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write.

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek; jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come; let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.”

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing; navy blue, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance.

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hissed as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind.

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen exactly. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in.

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes.

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

The objective was quite clear; get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“...then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off; you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the restaurant. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly.

“So am I.”

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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matchascara · 10 months

Text

VAMPIRE AU | ANEMO BOYS

- IN WHICH: you’re a touch starved vampire, who just can’t seem to keep her fangs to herself…

nsfw/suggestive

(i wrote this very quick as the idea just popped into my head, so it’s not profread!!)

you were eternally grateful for the friends you had, after all, they let you relentlessly suck their blood when needed. or more like, when you wanted. were you going to die if you went a day or two without human blood? no. could you have easily suck the blood of an animal? yes. but human blood just tasted oh so much better, especially when it came from them.

they felt special whenever you’d ask for a taste, little did they know, they were one of many, and you were just getting started.

KAZUHA

never failed to grasp the back of your head as you dove your fangs into his soft, delicate skin, grabbing a handful of your hair as he threw his head back in pain. his refreshing cederwood scented cologne intoxicating your nostrils everytime you released your breath to drink more. he was never hesitant about you taking his blood, especially when he knew you craved it, because, he craved you just as much. and you knew this as he made no effort to hide his soft moans that would shamelessly escape his lips, praising you, and begging you to take more, “mmgh k-keep going— take as much as you need—more…more…“ he couldn’t deny that it hurt, when you so hungrily devoured him, as if he was nothing more than another evening snack. however, he also couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it, maybe a bit more than he should. sometimes he’d find himself interrupting you to shift his positions, as to hide his growing erection when you’d swirl your tongue around his neck, making sure to take every last drop.

XIAO

was more of the aloof type, never one to show his emotions in public. his voice was always nothing but stern and his tone was cold. sometimes talking to him gave you chills, and you’d be left wondering if the two of you were really friends. that’s why you found yourself often begging for him to share his blood to you in public, causing him to break his cold nature. and unfortunately for him, he couldn’t deny your puppy dog eyes as he’d scuff and grab your hand, leading the two of you to the closest bathroom. your favorite part about him besides his neck, was his arms, so firm and muscular, his veins often popping out as he grabbed your waist, forcefully digging his fingers into your skin as to not make a sound when you’d suck his blood. if he wasn’t biting his bottom lip until he bled, he’d find himself slipping, letting out low pitched hums, groans, and curses. that’s when he couldn’t deny it any longer, he needed you to give him more than just your fangs, he wanted your whole body, “fuck, fuck, — i can’t— just make it quick— before i…”

HEIZOU

was the most needy, with most times instead of you asking him to take his blood, it’d be him asking you. no matter the place, time, or event, heizou wouldn’t fail to beg you to take him right then and there, teasing you by wearing loose fitting clothing, rubbing his neck continuously and playing it off by saying he’s “hurt” and “needs assistance”, and most of all, touching you directly. he’d teasingly slowly rub on your thigh up and down , just to make his way up your shirt, fondling your breasts as kissed you deeply, swirling his tongue along your fangs. “come on…don’t you wanna suck my blood? just a little…please..” breaking off from the kiss, he’d stick out his tongue that was stained red with his blood that escaped when it pricked your sharpened tooth, winking as he toyed with you. he knew what he was doing, and he knew he would always be the victor because you couldn’t resist your urges. and you’d be taking much more than “a little” because more than you craved his blood, you craved to hear his needy pleads beg you to stop, in which you wouldn’t, because that’s what he asked for, right?

SCARAMOUCHE

was the best at saying the opposite of what he wanted. constantly pleading with you to get off of him, and to “go ask someone else”, yet, whenever you’d agree to follow through with his demands, you found yourself continuing to feast on his sweet blood as he firmly held your head in place, deeply rooted in his cold neck. scaramouche dreaded the nights where he’d be unable to sleep without you coming to claim what was yours. his pride was too large to ever ask of you to suck his blood, or for him to even agree to the idea. so he loved it when you’d force yourself upon him, digging your claws into his hair as you sprawled on top of him, like a crazed hunter who’s found its prey, leaving him helpless at your embrace. his denial turned to silence, then turned into sensual whines, him trying his very best to conceal his pleasure by biting his hand as his usual pale complexion hued red. “aah—aah—aah—stop- stop- it really…really…feels…” you loved making him crumble before you, and one day, you were going to make him scream for more. scaramouche, so high and mighty, being knocked off his pedestal by a persistent vampire who wants nothing more than his blood.

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x y/n #genshin imagines #genshin impact #kazuha x y/n #kazuha smut #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao smut #heizou x y/n #heizou genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #heizou x reader

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

Text

Sweet Like Grenadine

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You love weddings. However, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. Enter Daniel Ricciardo, your knight in shining armor.

Word Count: 5.6k

a/n: thought of this concept and couldn’t get Danny out of my head. He’s soooo guy you flirt with at a wedding and will probably never see again coded

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild sexual content (heavy makeout? idrk how to tag this stuff), one (1) shitty boyfriend

The table in front of you is draped with a heavy white tablecloth. At the center is a large bouquet of flowers, the number 19 stuck haphazardly in the middle of it. Not last, but certainly low on the list. You can’t blame them- you barely know the bride and groom.

You’re only here because your boyfriend is a groomsman. A plus one. You love weddings, so of course you’d agreed, but you hadn’t really considered how lonely an event like this could be. The only person you really know has been busy all day. You can’t complain, won’t complain, you know that’s why he’s here, but…

You’re sitting at a table full of strangers. It’s not exactly fun. There’s still hours left of this. Dinner hasn’t even been served, there’s still speeches and cake and dancing and honestly, you’re already exhausted. You need a drink, but the bar isn’t open yet. You need to take off your heels, but you’re pretty sure that would be frowned upon. You need to talk to your boyfriend.

He’s busy, though. He told you as much when you found him between the ceremony and the reception. There’s a pang in your chest still at the way he brushed you off, the way he told you he didn’t have time to chat. You get it, you really do. You’re not going to get upset about it.

The seat to your left has been empty since you sat down, but someone collapses into it, letting out a heavy sigh. You turn to look, hoping for some sort of familiar face or at least a friendly one, and you’re met with-

“Hi. ‘M Daniel,” he says, sticking his hand out to shake yours.

The thing is, Daniel is a familiar face, but not for any of the reasons you’d hoped for. You know Daniel because your boyfriend is obsessed with Formula 1. You try to keep up so you can take part in his conversations, but it’s never really been your thing. But you know enough to know Daniel Ricciardo.

“Yeah, I… I know,” you say, before you slap your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I’m sorry. That’s weird. S’just- my boyfriend’s a huge fan-“

You swear his face drops slightly, but he plasters that grin right back on before he says, “and you’re not a fan?”

“I’m not not a fan,” you say. “He’s just the bigger fan. Of the two of us.”

Daniel nods. You finally shake his hand. He never stops looking at you, never stops smiling. You tell him your name, and he repeats it back to you, his accented version making you smile.

“Well, is he here? I’d love to meet the bigger of the two fans,” he says. “We talking, like, box fan, industrial blower, air boat fan? How big?”

You laugh, his hand squeezing yours as you lean over the table. He’s laughing, too, then, before he lets go of your hand. You want to crawl out of your skin, want to run and hide in the bathroom, because you’re definitely making a fool of yourself, but-

“Oh, he’s busy,” you say, waving your hand in the air dismissively. “He’s one of the groomsmen, got a lot on his plate. I don’t wanna bug him. He’s the one with the sunglasses on,” you say, pointing at him at the head table.

Daniel looks where you point and quirks his brow. “Guy like that has a girl like you and you’re the one worried about bugging him?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. He collapses into a fit of laughter again, and you follow suit. You don’t know what else to do. Then he nudges your knee with his, under the table, and juts his chin towards the bar.

“D’you want a drink?” He asks.

“The bar isn’t open yet,” you say.

“So?”

“So, how are you going to get a drink?”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Oh, sweetheart, you just watch and learn. What’re you having?”

You shrug. “A soda, I guess. I’m the designated driver for at least three of the groomsmen.”

Daniel sighs heavily. “You poor thing. You keep making me feel worse and worse for you. Alright, I’ll get you something.”

He strides his way up to the bar, which has a very obvious “Closed” sign on the countertop. There’s a single bartender behind it, and he’s cleaning glasses. You watch with entertainment as Daniel leans on the counter, exuding confidence and charm. The bartender shakes his head. Daniel counters. The man behind the bar shrugs and nods. Then he steps through a door for just a moment. When he returns, he has two drinks in his hands- one that’s obviously a beer, and one that’s bright pink. Daniel smiles, thanks the man, and walks the cups back to you.

He sets it down in front of you with a flourish before he takes a seat.

“I told you, I’m DD,” you remind him.

He nods, taking a sip of his beer before he says, “Shirley Temple.”

“Oh my god,” you say, a grin washing over your face. You pick up the cup and take a sip, sighing at the sweet taste of ginger ale and grenadine. “How did you know?”

“Everyone loves a good Shirley,” he says, elbowing you lightly. “And you can’t drink just plain soda at a wedding.”

They announce dinner shortly after that, and the waiters start bringing plates out. You’re starving, having been up early to help with last minute wedding things at your boyfriend’s request. You hadn’t had time to eat lunch. You chat with Daniel through the meal. The two of you talk about the food, about the wedding, about the decor. There are other people at the table, but they’re all incredibly boring in comparison. Daniel, on the other hand, could hold your attention forever, probably.

You sneak glances at your boyfriend, surrounded by his friends at the head table. He’d promised to sneak away as soon as he got a chance. He hasn’t even looked your way. You're trying to ignore the hurt deep in your chest. Daniel is sneaking glances at you sneaking glances at the bridal party. You’re trying to ignore that, too.

“How long have you two been dating?” Daniel asks.

“About 6 months,” you say with a smile.

It feels forced. Frankly, the last thing you want to talk about right now is your boyfriend. They’re clearing the last plates. He’s at his table, three beers in by your count, not a care in the world. He promised. Daniel opens his mouth, likely to ask another question about your boyfriend, but you speak first.

“So wait, are you here for the bride or the groom?” You ask.

“The bride,” Daniel says , a soft smile on his face. “An old family friend. I’m representing the Ricciardos.”

You smile. “That’s sweet.”

Before he can say anything in response, someone is tapping on a microphone. It’s time for the speeches. You know your boyfriend isn’t making one, which is good. He’s not exactly the best public speaker, especially when he’s been drinking. You and Daniel settle in to listen.

He sneaks away between the maid of honor and the best man, patting the back of your hand and whispering about being right back. He returns a few moments later, another beer and a Shirley Temple in his hands. You smile gratefully at him, and he waves you off. Then the next speech is starting, and you’re rolling your eyes at the way the best man talks about marriage like it’s some awful idea.

“He knows this is a wedding, yeah?” Daniel asks out of the side of his mouth, leaning towards you.

You shrug. “That one started drinking at 9am. I’m not sure he even knows what year it is right now.”

Daniel starts laughing, then. Luckily, the rest of the crowd does too- apparently, the best man has just made an extremely funny joke. Daniel is only looking at you, though, and you can’t help but laugh just because of the look on his face.

When the first dances are over and the music starts, you sink low into your seat. Your boyfriend has still not made an appearance. He definitely knows where you’re sitting, he had told you so earlier. You’re sure he’s busy, but you’d looked away for too long, talking to Daniel, and now he’s disappeared from the head table. You scan the crowd, hoping to see his face. All the while, you can feel Daniel watching you.

“We could go dance,” he suggests.

You sink lower in your seat. “I don’t really like dancing.”

That’s a lie. You love dancing, especially at weddings. You love the cheesy songs they always play, you love the atmosphere, you love watching the bride and groom have fun and getting to be a part of it. But you know how it would look if you went out on the dance floor with Daniel, and your boyfriend definitely won’t be joining you. As frustrated as you may be with your him, you don’t want to cause drama at someone else’s best day of their lives.

“I think I might try and find him,” you say, picking up your drink.

Daniel nods. “Want me to come with you?”

You look around at the rest of the table and find it empty. You shake your head and lean towards him, close enough that you almost knock your foreheads. Nobody’s watching the two of you or trying to listen anyways, but it’s more fun this way.

“He promised he’d find me before dinner,” you whisper conspiratorially. “That obviously didn’t happen. So I’m not bringing you to him as a reward for bad behavior.”

Daniel sits back in his chair and smiles at you, one brow raised. “Atta girl!”

You stand up from your chair and hope he can’t tell that your face has grown hot from that comment alone.

Even if you can’t find your boyfriend, it’s probably best that you get some space from Daniel. Through the last hour or so of your conversation, you’ve been catching yourself leaning towards him and then reminding yourself that you have a boyfriend. It’s just that he’s being so nice, and that you’re feeling so down about the whole thing. He’s comforting, which is fine. But it can’t be more than that.

You find your boyfriend at one of the bars, leaning on the counter and talking loudly with one of the other groomsmen. He’s drunk already- he should really slow down if he wants to last the night. You walk over to him, forcing a soft smile onto your face. You can’t confront him now, not in front of his friend and all the people waiting for drinks.

“Hey, babe,” you say, tapping his shoulder lightly as you walk up.

He turns. You wait for him to smile at you, but it never comes. Your stomach sinks.

“Hey,” he says, nonchalantly. “D’you need something?”

Your palms feel clammy. “Oh, no, I’m good! Just… wanted to say hi. S’been a bit.”

He nods. “Yeah. I told you I’d be busy tonight.”

His friend just stands there and listens. Your skin feels hot, and your eyes begin to sting.

“I know,” you say. “I’m not trying to bug you, I just- I was just walking by. Just. Yeah. That’s all. I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll come find you in a bit, baby,” he promises.

You don’t bother believing him this time.

Daniel doesn’t comment on your red eyes or the tear tracks on your cheeks when you return to the table. He just squeezes your arm and disappears for a moment, then comes back with yet another Shirley Temple. You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry, so you just take a sip of the drink instead.

“You don’t have to sit here with me,” you say to Daniel. “I’m definitely pulling down the mood.”

“Are you joking?” He says. “You’re the best thing at this party.”

You laugh, then, because the statement is so ridiculous that you can’t help it. He sounds so serious, and when you turn to look at him there’s no hint of teasing on his face. He just elbows your arm lightly again.

“Come on, we don’t have to dance but we’re not sitting here all night,” he says. “Let’s go wander.”

He stands from the table and tugs at your chair. You give in and stand up too, taking your drink from the table. You follow him as he weaves through the throngs of people. You like wandering. Wandering is a perfectly sensible thing to do with the guy you just met. At the wedding your boyfriend is a groomsman at. What else are you supposed to do, anyways?

He leads you past the dance floor, which you try not to look at forlornly. There are large glass doors at the back of the hall. He swings one open, holding it for you, waving you through with a flourish of his hand. Outside, it’s lit up with string lights. There’s a wide rolling lawn of grass, with fire pits and chairs spread out everywhere. There are lawn games, too- beanbags and horseshoes and a giant version of Jenga.

You can burn a lot of time out here. You barely even notice when Daniel slips his hand around your wrist to gently pull you with him. You should feel guilty about it. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside. But that same boyfriend has also been ignoring you all night. Daniel is just being friendly. You follow him to one of the fire pits with a smile on your face.

You and Daniel are nearly two hours into wandering when someone calls your name. You look up from where you’ve been staring at the beanbag board, trying to line up your throw just right. You’d been on the verge of winning for the first time. For an Australian, Daniel is surprisingly good at American lawn games. Frustratingly good, even.

It’s your boyfriend, calling you from the doorway of the reception hall. You sigh and drop the beanbag onto the ground near your feet. Two of the other groomsmen are hanging off of him, looking worse for the wear. One of them has something down the front of his shirt- you pray it’s not vomit.

“I think that’s my cue,” you say, nodding towards the building.

“You could always put them in a cab and hope they figure it out on their own.” Daniel says. You give him a skeptical look. “Kidding, kidding.”

“It’s tempting,” you admit.

Daniel bends over and picks up your heels from where they lay in the grass. You’d kicked them off as soon as you stepped into the soft grass outside. You slip the shoes back on and wince. Then you stick your hand out to him, palm open.

“Well, it was lovely to meet you,” you say, as he shakes your hand once more. “Thanks for not leaving me all alone.”

Daniel laughs. “I will be your ‘I-know-nobody-at-this-event-‘ partner anytime you want, sweetheart. Just give me a call. I’ll be there.”

You know what he’s trying to do. The opportunity is right there in front of you. He’s telling you to give him a call- this is where you ask for his number. But you have a boyfriend. You can justify hanging out with him, especially considering you had nothing else to do, but asking for his number feels a step too far.

You smile softly and drop his hand. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

You turn and make your way towards your boyfriend. He’s already complaining before you’re even within ten feet of him, about how he’s tired and he looked everywhere for you and how could you disappear like that? You apologize, just to quiet him down. You usher the three men inside before you turn to look at Daniel one more time.

He’s standing there, watching you, a sad smile on his face.

“Who was that guy?” Your boyfriend asks later, from the passenger seat of the car.

You look at him, at his eyes. The light is gone- he’s blacked out, there’s no way he’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Daniel Ricciardo,” you say.

It’s a testament to how drunk he is that he doesn’t even react.

You get all three guys into bed, including your boyfriend. You lay down next to him, as much as you don’t want to. There’s not really anywhere else to sleep in the little hotel room, and you’re not sleeping on the floor. When you close your eyes, you can’t fall asleep, plagued by thoughts of if you’d made the right choice, unable to erase Daniel’s sad smile from your memory.

…..

You love weddings. You remind yourself of that over and over again as you pin a dress in place for the hundredth time that day. Your best friend Natalie is a bridesmaid, it’s her sister who’s getting married, and you’re here to help in any way you can. So far, that’s included safety pinning, making a run for alcohol, checking on the floral delivery, checking to make sure the groomsmen are where they’re supposed to be, and comforting a bridesmaid who was crying in the bathroom. Her boyfriend had broken up with her the night before.

“Men are shit,” you’d told her in commiseration.

By the time the ceremony rolls around, you’re relieved to have a chance to sit down. You check on the bridesmaids one last time and head into the church. The pews are packed with people, so you find a spot near the back and sit down. You sigh in relief.

The music starts playing, and you finally take a chance to look around. The pews are decorated with flowers, there’s bright light streaming through the large windows. The groom waits up front, eyes already watering. You love weddings. You say it like a mantra in your head.

As the procession starts, you scan the crowd. You know more people at this wedding, having been friends with the family for a while. You’ll at least have some company at your table. You spot a couple friends from high school, a cousin you’ve met a few times, some mutual friends who you’ll definitely have to catch up with later. And then, in the third row on the groom’s side, you see dark curly hair that looks terrifyingly familiar.

It can’t be him. That would be absolutely insane. There’s absolutely no way Daniel Ricciardo is attending a second wedding in the US, for a couple who are no more famous than the previous wedding you’d seen him at. It would make absolutely no sense. And yet, you can’t stop staring at the back of this man’s head, the slope of his shoulders beneath his dark suit. You remember that wedding, months ago, resting your hand on his shoulder for balance as you took off your heels. He’d joked about having to cut you off, holding your Shirley Temple in his hand.

When the bridal procession begins playing, everyone stands. You keep your eyes on him. He turns, and your heart skips a beat in your chest. It’s Daniel. It’s impossible, it’s irrational, but it is him. You’d recognize him anywhere.

You force yourself to look away, to turn towards the bride. She looks beautiful, perfect, the picture of elegance. The flowers in her hands, the ones you’d checked on that morning, are perfect too. You breathe a sigh of relief. She really should’ve hired a wedding coordinator. Maybe you should be a wedding coordinator.

When you go to sit back down, you sneak a glance at Daniel. He’s looking over his shoulder at you, eyes wide. You meet his gaze and your cheeks feel hot. That wide, bright grin breaks out across his face. You grin right back.

When the ceremony is over, and they’re officially Mr and Mrs, the whole wedding disperses out onto the lawn of the church. There are shuttles to take you to the reception, but everyone seems content to mingle outside in the fresh air. You’re one of the first ones out, but you’re quickly swept up in the crowd. You search for Daniel in every face that passes. You find Natalie first, though.

“Nat,” you say frantically. “Does your sister know Daniel Ricciardo?”

Her brow furrowed for a second. “What?”

“Danny Ricciardo,” you repeat, keeping your voice low. “The F1 driver. He’s here.”

“Oh,” Natalie says, brows raising. “Yeah, he’s like, friends with her fiancé- oh, her husband! Shit, I forgot that you watch that stuff- or, you… did? I can probably try and introduce you-“

“No, we- we’ve met.” You admit. She’s the first person you’re telling about this. “At that wedding like 6 months ago.”

She tilts her head at you. Her eyes go wide. She says your name in a bewildered tone.

“Are you telling me that the mystery wedding man, who you definitely should’ve dumped your boyfriend for, was fucking Danny Ricciardo?”

“Keep it down!” You shush her.

“Oh my god,” she says, a conspiratorial smirk crossing over her face. “And he’s here.”

Someone calls your name. You know that voice- it’s haunted you since you left that wedding. You turn over your shoulder as Natalie grabs your wrist and lets out a squeak.

“Danny,” you breathe, like a sigh of relief. “Hi.”

He strides up to you, handsome as ever, grinning so widely it looks like it hurts. “This is fucking insane.”

An elderly aunt glares at him. He makes an apologetic face before turning back to you and shrugging. He steps into your space, so close you can smell his cologne. He’s staring down at you through his lashes. The look in his eyes is so soft and warm that you think you’re melting.

“The bride is my best friend’s sister,” you explain, gesturing at Natalie. “This is Natalie.”

“I’m friends with the groom,” he says, reaches his hand out and shakes Natalie’s hand. “I’m Danny, nice to meet you.”

She nods, and suddenly you’re very afraid. Natalie doesn’t have much of a filter, especially in high pressure situations. Especially when she’s been forced to be prim and proper all morning.

“You must really like American weddings,” she says, and you wince. “I hear this is your second one in 6 months.”

Daniel smirks, raises his eyebrows at you. “Huh. Wonder what else you’ve heard about me.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but you shove her shoulder. “Nat, aren’t you supposed to be taking family pictures?”

She’s so busy staring at Daniel she almost doesn’t hear you. Then her eyes go wide. She swears loudly, earning a glare from the same aunt. Then she drops your wrist and takes off through the crowd.

You turn towards Daniel. “Sorry about her.”

He shakes his head. “No need. She seems sweet.”

You smile. “She is.”

“Makes sense, since she’s friends with you,” he says. “The sweetest of them all.”

You laugh, shove at his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

Behind him, people are starting to get on the shuttles. He’s leaning towards you, eyes still lit up.

“I honestly can’t believe this,” he says.

“Neither can I,” you admit. “It’s.. it’s really good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you,” he echoes. “Feels like a sign, doesn’t it?”

You open your mouth to agree, to tell him what you’ve been thinking the past 6 months, but Natalie is calling your name. You and Daniel both turn to look at her, and the look on her face tells you she’s so sorry. You sigh and shrug.

“I have to go,” you tell him. “That bridal party is a mess.”

“Worse than the last one?” He asks.

“No,” you say. “And I don’t have to drive any of them home, so that’s a bonus. But I think I’ll be billing them for wedding coordinator expenses after this. Or at the very least, drinking enough at the open bar to make up for it.”

Daniel laughs. “Atta girl. Should I save you a seat on the shuttle?”

You let out a puff of air. “I’m riding over with the bridal party.”

His face falls in disappointment. “Okay. Find me when you get there, yeah? I’ll have a Shirley Temple waiting for you.”

You nod. “Make it a Dirty Shirley, would you?”

He nods eagerly and squeezes your arm.

You don’t actually make it into the reception until nearly an hour later. There’s an emergency with a groomsman’s tux, and the girl who was broken up with the night before is crying again. Nothing that can’t be fixed with safety pins and tequila, but it still takes time. You check your name on the seating chart, sigh at the sight of the name next to yours, the seat that will stay empty. You find Daniel’s seat, too, a few tables over from yours. You head there first.

Daniel is sitting, a beer in hand and a very watery Shirley Temple on the table in front of him. He’s chatting with the man sitting next to him, who looks a bit starstruck. He perks up when he sees you, reaching for your drink. You take it happily and have a sip, tasting ginger ale, grenadine, and vodka, too.

“The ice is a bit melted,” he says with a sigh. “But good news! Ian here has offered to switch seats with you.”

Ian is looking between you and Daniel, eyes wide. You’re sure he did offer, likely after Daniel had told him the whole crazy story, or at least enough to convince him. You watched him charm bartenders at the last wedding- he has a way with words. Ian starts to stand up.

“That’s really not necessary.” You say, and Daniel’s face falls. “There’s an empty seat at my table.”

He lifts his brows, grinning again. His brown eyes stare deep into your own. He stands up without waiting another moment, handing you your drink and holding his own.

“Ian, nice meeting you,” he says. “I’ll still get you those paddock passes,” he promises, and you bite back a laugh. “See ya ‘round, mate.”

He follows you to your table. There’s a setting with your name on a little card, and the empty setting next to it with another name on it. You grab that card and crumple it in your hand, shoving it into your purse. He quirks a brow but sits down anyways as you greet the others at your table- cousins of the bride and friends who you’ve met a few times.

“So. How’ve things been?” You ask, and he launches into a story that has you listening with every bone in your body.

Somehow, the two of you make it all the way through dinner and speeches and the first dance before the subject of your boyfriend even comes up. You wonder if he’s been waiting to broach it. You’ve been waiting for the right moment.

He nods towards the dance floor. “You have to promise me you’ll dance to at least one song tonight.”

You blink and shrug. “Easy. I love dancing.”

He stares at you. There’s the beginnings of another wide grin on his face.

“That is not what you said last time.”

“I lied,” you admit. “Because my boyfriend hated dancing.”

Daniel nods. “Hated. Past tense?”

“He’s not dead,” you deadpan, making him laugh. “But he’s also not my boyfriend anymore.”

Daniel’s foot nudges against yours under the table. “No?”

“No,” you say with a shrug.

Daniel nods. “Pretty girl like you, you must’ve moved on pretty quick,” he says.

His tone is light, teasing. He’s testing the waters. You shake your head and pretend you don’t see the way his shoulders sag in relief.

“I’ve sworn off dating,” you tell him. Your tone is teasing, too. “After he left me on my own at a wedding, I decided men are shit.”

You’re taunting him now. The conversation has gone from feeling each other out, from digging for information, to circling each other like sharks in the water. Your heart is beating steady in your chest. His eyes are locked on yours.

“You poor thing,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Let me prove you wrong?”

The tension crackles in the air. His knee nudges against yours and you swear you’re going to combust. You down the rest of your drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and reach for his suit jacket. You run your finger down the lapel, then back up, adjusting his collar.

“I swore off men,” you repeat, leaning forwards, keeping your voice low. “But this feels like a sign, doesn’t it? Like the universe sent me back to you.”

He nods. He reaches up, captures your wrist in his hand and holds it against his chest.

“So maybe you should go get me another drink,” you suggest. “And I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”

You lean even closer, then, close enough to press your lips to his cheek. Then you stand up and walk away towards where people are beginning to gather, to where the music is loudest. You don’t turn back to see if he’s watching. You already know he is.

…..

You have a fleeting thought, later, that maybe you should’ve switched to a drink with less sugar in it at some point in the night. The grenadine feels like it’s stuck to your tongue. Danny doesn’t seem to mind the taste, though.

He’s got you up against the wall in a back hallway of the reception venue. You back is pressed to the cool surface, your arms around his neck, his hands on your hips. His lips are on yours, and he’s kissing you deeply, like he’ll never get enough. You’re feeling the same.

His knee slots between your legs, and you’re a goner. His hand slips from your hip and cups your ass, hauling you closer with ease, tilting your hips away from the wall and into his. You break away for air, gasping for it, and he moves his lips to your neck. It feels heavenly, trapped between him and the wall, his hands all over you, his lips trailing lower and lower. He reaches up and brushes the thin strap of your dress off one of your shoulders. You shove your hands under his suit jacket and press them against his toned abdomen through his shirt. He lets out a groan, the noise vibrating against your neck. You throw your head back and laugh between gasps.

You wonder if he’d have his way with you right there. You wonder if you’d let him.

There are footsteps, then, clicking their way down the hall. You scramble to push him away as someone rounds the corner, but you know it’s painfully obvious. You turn your head, already feeling mortified, and come face to face with Natalie.

“Oh, thank god,” both you and your best friend say at the same time.

Daniel pulls away and looks between the two of you. You can’t look at him for more than a few seconds. His lips are red and puffy, his eyes half lidded. You distantly wonder if there’s beard burn on your face, if your lips are just as red. Then you start to wonder how his scruff might feel on other parts of you.

“I didn’t know where you’d gone,” Natalie says, laughing. “I heard noises, I thought…”

“I’m fine,” you tell her, and she nods in agreement.

“I’ll say,” she teases.

“Nat!” You hiss.

“You’d better take good care of her, Ricciardo,” he says, and your face grows hot all over again. “I don’t care how famous you are, I’ll fuck you up anyways.”

“Nat!” You hiss again.

“I will,” Danny promises, squeezing your hip and nodding. “I’m on a mission. Trying to prove not all men are shit.”

“Good luck,” Natalie says drily. But when she walks away, she’s smiling.

He turns back to you, and this time he places both his hands on the wall on either side of your head. You look up at him, licking your lips. You still taste the Shirley Temple, and you can taste him, too, now. He groans softly and closes his eyes. It’s nice to know you’re having an effect on him, too, nice to know you’re not the only one feeling worked up. You reach up and tug on the lapels of his jacket. You brush your lips against his jaw.

“We should have one more drink,” you tell him, humming happily. “And then you should take me to your hotel.”

He swallows. You press a kiss to the center of his throat.

“I’ve never heard a better plan in my whole life.” He says.

…..

At every wedding you go to afterwards, you order the same drink. Well, really, Danny orders them for you. You’ve thought a couple times about asking for wine or seltzer or even beer. You think it might break his heart, though. It’s a tradition now, and the pink sugary concoction will always taste like that very first night. Like bare feet in the grass, the thud of beanbags against wooden boards. Like Daniel’s laugh in the middle of the best man’s speech. Like you, alone at a table, and Daniel collapsing into the seat next to you, his hand extended to shake yours.

The same hand that’s wrapped up with yours now, resting on his knee. You never want to let go. You’re pretty sure he’d be okay with that.

Taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams

#daniel riccardo x reader #Danny Ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo x you #Danny Ricciardo x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #honeywrites #formula 1 fanfic

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jj-one · 2 months

Text

HOW JUNGKOOK WOULD TREAT HIS BIMBO GF 🍥

pairing: established relationship, bf!Jungkook x bimbo!fem!reader genre/tags: smut, dumbification, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, an*l, oral (m receiving), t*tty f*cking, drooling, use of the word daddy (only once)

**old repost from my deleted blog (05/24/23)

- Having a drop dead gorgeous girlfriend was a given for Jungkook, he loved the fact that y’all were both smoking hot and turn heads everywhere you go

- The stark contrast between your appearances drove him insane

- His aesthetic was more dark and mystique, is also heavily tattooed while you always wore pink and pastels, having bare skin

- Is so enamored with the idea of you being the total opposite of him, he always feels like he’s corrupting your sweet innocence

- Kinda treats you like you’re his eye candy anywhere he goes, has you wrapped up on his arm like it’s a leash

- He’s been debating getting an actual leash for you since you constantly trip and fall whenever you’re out with him

- You were just so ditzy and clumsy… it was your character flaw yet Jungkook saw it as an endearing quality

- Also loved that you were an airhead, clingy, and always wanting his attention ;( makes the joy of him coming home to you all the more thrilling <33

- Always buying you pink and girly thingsss

- Whenever he sees something hello kitty or barbie related he instantly thinks of you and buys it

- CONSTANTLY wants to spoil you, omg this man would spend every dime he could on you just to make you happy

- He looooves taking you out shopping because that’s your favorite activity !!

- He splurged on you the other day, buying you any color of that Dior lip oil that you were obsessed with, it was worth it since he’d be the one taking it off your lips afterwards

- Jungkook enjoys watching you try on skimpy outfits for him, the shorter the skirt the better— don’t get him started on the way your hardened nipples peek out the fabric of your shirts…

- Likes to play dress up with you like you’re his personal doll

- He’ll put you in a pink lace slip dress one night and the next he’ll have you wear white see-through lingerie for him; that is only when you two are in private of course

- Frequently teaches you new things so you keep up to date with current news and other events, he knows you aren’t the brightest but you have a heart of gold and do your best to comprehend everything he tells you !

- When watching movies you often pause to ask questions about the film because you don’t get it

- Jungkook made you watch ‘Inception’ with him one time and it absolutely rotted your brain

- He enjoys explaining the movie to you in a babying way, dumbing it down for you to understand it as your mind is blown away by all the knowledge he drops on you

- Laughs at your inability to comprehend the plot and pats your head while teasing you

- “Awww, you poor little thing…can’t even understand the simple concept of a movie.”

- It really really really turns him on when you wear high heels, the higher the heels the higher the tent in his pants grew

- You wore the sexiest 6-inch stripper heels for him and he fucked you out completely while you had them on, he thinks he might have a heel fetish or something

- Absolutely adores your bright & bubbly personality !! Will praise you any time he hears you say something smart

- “Did you know that Sloths can hold their breath longer than Dolphins???” You would ask him randomly.

- “No I didn’t, but thanks for the fun fact babe. You sound so cute when you talk about things you’ve discovered.”

- “It was on the back of my Snapple cap, how cool is that?! See look!!”

- He will never not be impressed by your lack of awareness, you lived in your own little bubble and he wanted to shield you from all harm and scary things

- Is sooo completely obsessed with your body

- Your bouncy tits, your curvaceous hips, and your cute plump butt was the perfect sight to send the blood rushing to his cock

- Loves. To. Fuck. You. So. Dumb.

- Uses your hole like it’s a fleshlight and loves cumming inside you repeatedly

- Dumping all his cum into your little bimbo cunt was the only thing he needed in his life

- Often catches you drooling at him, when you do this he scoops it up with his finger and puts it back in your mouth

- His favorite part of sex with you is seeing your fucked out face

- The stare you give him while you deepthroat his cock was enough to make him combust

- “Look so pretty with my cock stuffed in your mouth, such a pretty little slut for me..”

- The way he would degrade you but praise you in the same breath confused you in many ways yet you enjoyed every minute of it

- Your makeup would be all smeared, mascara would be runny, the Dior lip gloss he bought you fully transferred to his cock now

- Can never choose between if he likes doggystyle or cowgirl more since both positions he gets to look at your assets with a nice view

- Lots of titty fucking, loves having your big round tits around his cock, making a mess all over your chest once you milk him clean

- He owns all your holes, he likes to use your tight little ass from time to time

- After lubing it up nice and gently, he would go to town on your ass just pounding into your fuck hole viciously

- “What a fucking whore you are, gonna keep fucking your tiny hole until I pump every last bit of my seed in you.”

- Turns him on so fucking much when you start babbling and unable to speak proper sentences

- You’d whimper and hiccup with frustration from the way his cock made you feel

- His love language will always be making you feel so low. So small compared to him that you don’t even feel worthy of his presence at times

- “Can’t stop drooling all over yourself? Already too dumb and fucked out to continue, hmm?? Oh never mind, you’re already dumb…just shut up and take daddy’s cock like the good little slut you are, you were made for taking cock anyway.”

#jungkook headcanons #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabbles #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines

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littlemiss-yeehaw · 2 months

Text

You're Gonna Be Quiet

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary: It's just an undercover mission, anyone could be married for one night - even you two.

Warnings: profanity, flirting, yucky old men, suggestive content (?), possessive Bucky <3

MINORS PLS DNI

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: y'all.... im not an author. im an artist, not an author, so PLS go into this with that knowledge. but I have been convinced, no, coerced into posting this little funsy by @ellemj

she threatened to withhold vacation pictures from me as if I didn't draw her bucky barnes dick earlier today and I'll be damned

anyways,, please enjoy and manage your expectations :,)

“Okay, rumor has it the target, Mr. Beaumont, has a thing for married women,” Sam says casually as he holds a ring between his thumb and forefinger, “so for this mission, you get to be Mrs. Barnes.”

He tosses the ring in your direction and you catch it with a sour expression. You slip the rock on your finger and admire it, your scowl slipping just a moment as you watch how it catches the sun. That is until you see Bucky with an equally foul look on his face. Suddenly, your frown reappears.

“Sam, I feel like there is certainly someone better suited for this than me,” you grumble as you put your hand down and look back up at him, “I mean, aren’t these undercover missions more of a Natasha thing?”

Sam rolls his eyes before turning to face you, a hand on his hip. You were in for a scolding. “Natasha has her own mission. So today, you get to be Mrs. Hart. And you,” he turns to Bucky with a smug expression, “will be Mr. Hart. Any questions? No? Good, you two lovebirds go get your outfits on.”

You turn quickly, but not quick enough to miss the death stare Bucky shoots Sam. This one seems even more lethal than his typical one.

~~~

The ride to the gala is silent. Bucky is always silent, but this silence seems more… suffocating. You fiddle with the ring on your finger before glancing over at him. “Are you planning to even look at me before we get there? I mean, we’re supposed to be a marri-”

“You’re supposed to be a woman in an unhappy marriage who's looking to fuck a billionaire,” he says bluntly, not even turning towards you, “I’m just making sure that you look plenty unhappy.”

He would never admit out loud that the real reason he won’t spare you a second glance is because the first glimpse of you dolled up sent almost all the blood in his rational mind straight to his cock. He needs to preserve what little sense he has left.

~~~

You get out of the car with a huff. Just as Bucky intended, you look unhappy and thoroughly irritated. You pull the hem of your little black dress down in an attempt to recover some of your dignity, but all Bucky notices is how the little tug causes your breasts to be even more apparent. Yep, there went the rest of the blood.

He sighs and grabs your hand before plastering a fake smile onto his lips. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

You sigh and forget anymore yanking on your dress, looking up at him with a grim expression. “Let's,” you mutter under your breath before letting him lead you into the gala.

As expected, the event is extravagant and no doubt costly. You feel out of place, and you can’t help the way you move a little further into your ‘husband’s side. You let a breath of air past your lips as you look around the room for your target. Nowhere to be seen, you nearly move further into the room before Bucky squeezes your hand gently and nods to his left. You’re quick to ignore the flutter of butterflies that his touch sends shooting through you and casually look where he’s pointed. Surely enough, at the bar, sits a piggish man nursing a flute of champagne. Your eyes find Buckys and you shoot him a look before you drop his hand and make your way over.

You take a seat a few bar stools down from the man, making sure to fail at getting the bartender's attention. “Sir? Sir, could I-” You drop your hand with a sigh, feigning a disheartened expression.

“Sir, this lady would like a drink,” like a mouse in a trap, Mr. Beaumont waves him down for you and orders you a drink, “you look like you’d drink something fruity, a little thing like you. Maybe a sex on the beach?”

You wish you’d missed the way his lips pulled up in a foul grin and the way his eyebrow raised ever so slightly, and you really wish you hadn’t seen his greedy eyes rake over your body. Nonetheless, a soft laugh and a bat of your lashes grace him instead of the scowl that wants to pull at your lips.

“I’ve never had one before,” you say with a saccharine smile, “maybe we could share.”

You notice how his eyes nearly bug out of his head and then slowly trail to your hand. He slides his fingers, not dissimilar to link sausages, down to your left hand where he trails a thumb over your ring. “Are you sure your husband wouldn’t mind,” he asks with that same vile grin, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“Not particularly, but I’m sure I don’t care,” you whisper teasingly, leaning forward and showing off your tits that practically beg to fall from your dress. ‘Hook, line, and sinker’ you think as the man runs a heavy hand up the side of your leg and his eyes trail down your neck to your cleavage.

Trembling anger washes over Bucky as he watches the man practically feel you up in the middle of the bar. The beads of perspiration running down the target's neck and the way he keeps nervously licking his lips give Bucky all the indication he needs to know this man thinks you’re his. Then Bucky turns to look at you. You. You’re just letting the man have his way, no, you’re encouraging it. Yes, it’s the mission. And, no, Bucky has no reason to feel such vile hatred for the target in any sense other than the professional one. But for some reason, he finds himself wanting to dismember any part of the man that graces your body where he hasn’t yet.

Yet?

Yet.

~~~

“Who’s this, darling?”

You bristle as you feel a breath of air pass your ear before the deep timbre of Bucky's voice even registers in your mind. You whip around to look at him, an expression of anger and bewilderment replacing the flirtatious grin you were just donning. You look back to the target, trying to mask your surprise.

“Honey,” you manage to say through gritted teeth, “I didn’t even see you come over.”

You pull your hands from the target's grasp, nearly cringing at the moist feeling left behind on your skin. You feel Bucky’s firm hold replace Mr. Beaumont’s slimy touch, and your body reacts all too positively. You lean back hardly at all, but it’s enough to feel his chest rigid against you. Was he standing too close or were you too eager? There was no way to be sure, but one thing you could be sure of was the fact that neither of you shied from the contact.

“Hmm,” he hummed lowly, a disapproving air oozing from the short sound, “when you never brought our drinks over, I got curious as to where you’d disappeared to.”

His eyes shift from the side of your face to the man across from you, who grows increasingly uneasy at the sight of your tall and broad ‘husband’. Bucky leans down close, so close that his lips brush against the curve of your ear and you hope he can’t hear your blood rushing in your head.

“I’ll ask again, who is this?”

You’re not sure if it's what he says, or the way he says it, but his words send a wave of arousal through your body. Suddenly, the too-tiny dress feels too hot and you’ve nearly forgotten his question. That is until he quirks an eyebrow and tilts his head expectantly. You clear your throat and look back to a flustered target, presumably intimidated by your colleague.

“This,” you reply before turning back to the sweaty man, “is Mr. Beaumont. He owns a software company and..”

You turn to the target, a ditsy smile on your lips as you try to recover your role, “what else did you do? I forget.”

He laughs nervously, shifting on his bar stool to make himself appear taller. Still pitiful in comparison to the man currently staring daggers at him over your shoulder. “I develop software and coding for various companies and organizations to use where they deem fit.”

Another low hum sounds from Bucky’s throat as he lifts his head from your ear, he meets Mr. Beaumont's eyes and sighs.

“Very impressive, Mr. B,” he says condescendingly. You frown, peeking over at him. What is he doing? This was not a part of the plan, “so you must be a smart man?”

The man in question smiles smugly and nods. “I’d think so, yes.”

“Well then, pray tell, why have you been feeling up my wife,” he asks coolly, Bucky’s turn to look smug. You, on the other hand, whip around to stare at him with an irate expression. He looks down at you with a matching frown, hardly able to mask his irritation, “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll handle you later.”

You’d like to think you were subtle in your shock, in the way his words leave you flustered. You had no idea Bucky could smell the wave of arousal that flooded your panties, or that he could hear the beat of your heart like a snare drum. Neither of you even noticed the target’s pitiful stuttering, too caught up in the most sexually charged staring contest ever.

~~~

“What the fuck, Barnes,” you hiss quietly, walking ahead of him to the car with steam practically flooding out of your ears, “I mean, what the actual fuck!”

You don’t wait for him to catch up before you get into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind you. You didn’t care for appearances, your mission having been sabotaged by your own partner. What appearances did you have left to keep up?

He gets into the driver's seat a few moments later, pulling his gloves off with a sigh before running his flesh hand over his face.

“Are you done?”

“No,” you snap, turning to face him, “I’m not. You have the audacity to call me reckless, but you go and pull a stunt like that? I had it under control.” Your cheeks are red with irritation and your hair is a mess from you running your fingers through it, but he’s too caught up with thinking what else would have you looking so flushed.

“If you’d just shut up and listen-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I was getting the intel,” you’re practically ranting now, “and you just had to swoop in. And for what? To be all macho? To fluster me?”

The scowl on his lips that once matched yours turns into a scoff, and you narrow your eyes at him. Why are you looking at his lips? And why can’t you pull your gaze away from them? “What? What now,” you ask with a huff.

“You really need to learn when to stop talking,” he mutters, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he tries to wipe the smug smile from his face, “y’know that?”

You’re startled by his words, the flush on your cheeks no longer caused by his irritating actions but by his shocking words. Your eyes travel over him shamelessly, ready to jeopardize everything just to get rid of the tension that has lingered and grown exponentially over the course of the evening.

“Then why don’t you shut me up,” you ask softly, your tone opposite to the defiant one you’d held only moments ago. Judging by the minuscule way his eyes widen and the way his lips part around a sharp inhale, you’d be safe to guess he’d beat you to the idea.

You aren’t sure who moved forward first, or even if you’d moved at all. All you can be sure of is the feeling of Bucky Barnes kissing you like he’d never have the privilege again.

Your lips move feverishly against his own, the car filled with quiet pants and sloppy smacking. His hands tangle in your hair and he tugs you away from him, his expression turning stern when you whine petulantly. “Did you know you were a fucking brat tonight,” he asks lowly, his stare hard. You swallow thickly, pressing your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

“I was not,” you rebut, your brows furrowing and your lips turning down in a pout. He didn’t like that.

“You were,” he chides coolly, releasing his grip on your hair and sighing, “especially after we walked back to the car. You never even let me explain why I stopped you.”

You would like to focus on his words, but you’re too worried about the way his metal fingers nimbly undo the buckle of his belt. Silence sweeps over the car, the only sound being your shaky breath and the clank of metal on metal.

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” he continues, “I’m gonna talk, and you’re gonna listen. Quietly.” You’re salivating as he tugs the zipper of his dress pants down, allowing the tent in his boxers some much-needed reprieve. “You know why you’re gonna be quiet?”

“Why,” you ask in a breathless whisper, only just now meeting his eyes again.

“Because your mouth is gonna be full."

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #mcu #the winter soldier #winter soldier #fanfic #reader insert #smut

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