#sabe what were you thinking

[johnbassplayercutie]

Sabé realizing that Anakin and Padme got married and are not just "sleeping together" so to speak. I legit thought she knew earlier in the book and now she's shocked, girl what did you expect when you said Padme goes all the way in with love 😂

[senseiwu]

Does it piss anyone else off that barely anyone holds garmadon accountable for his actions and then they give people crap for being upset with him after he's hurt them

[rene-spade]

my man isn’t creepy! i | f1 grid

growing up leclerc au !

fem! leclerc! reader x f1 grid, leclerc family

part i: carlos sainz, daniel ricciardo, oscar piastri, pierre gasly & kika gomes

synopsis. when the youngest leclerc finds her partners’ ‘shrine’ of her, but she’s a leclerc so the red flags aren’t all that red

WARNING(s); i like em crazy y’all, obsessive/possessive behavior, implied stalking/shrines, unhealthy relationship dynamics, sexual implications but no smut

carlos sainz.

“What is it?” You asked, head tilted to the side as you look up at your boyfriend. The Spaniard melted, muttering a curse to himself and running his hands through his thick hair. He felt hot, nervous for what the outcome of this discussion could be.

“Dios mío, ángel, it’s— it is not what you think— nothing bad. I am just embarrassed is all.” He reassured, big hands gripping at your shoulders. But he knew it was a bit bad, even his enabling family members were worried he’d freak you out if you saw. His movements were made to comfort you, but you could tell they were more self-soothing. Arthur had a similar habit whenever you got upset with him, too.

You only frowned, but it fueled Carlos’ panic.

“Mi amor, I will do whatever you ask-! You know this. I will let you in when it’s cleaned, I swear it.” He pulled you into his chest, arms fully embracing you. But you squirmed out of his hold, making him respond with an unhappy attempt to coo you back into comfort.

“You’re hiding something in there, Carlos. This is the first time I’m staying with you in your home since we started dating, let me see.” And at the sight of your big, beautiful, angry eyes, how could he refuse an Angel? With a twitch of his fingers, Carlos unlocked the door without any movement to push it open.

With a short huff, you pushed yourself through the door, only pausing at seeing at the sheer amount of merchandise that covered every surface. It was all you-themed, from posters and cut-outs, down to a body-pillow and even an outfit you’d only worn once for a runway show. There was a glass shelf with your old perfumes, newer ones too, and photos everywhere.

“Carlos….” You began, covering your mouth with your fingers and stepping further in.

“I know—! But I liked you so much before we started seeing each other and I- I am just a passionate man is all, my whole family says so—!” You cut off his red-faced rambling with a beaming grin.

“Ouah! I didn’t know you were a super fan before we met!” You giggled, mumbling to yourself in French about the various things he’d collected. “maybe you are a bit extreme, but it’s kind of cute, no?”

“¿En serio? Sí, mi perla!” He breathed shakily before grinning, “I should have known you’d understand! Mis hermanas se burlaron de mí, ¿sabes? But it was all silly…” (You’re serious? Yes, my pearl! My sisters teased me, you know?)

“What are you saying? Your sisters… something? I’m still learning, mon chéri.” You pout at him, in a much better mood now that you knew what your boyfriend was hiding behind the door he seemed so desperate to keep you away from.

He shook his head, hair messy after having run his fingers through it many times due to stress, “We should have dinner with them tonight while we’re still in Spain, I said. Let’s go back downstairs?”

“Why? Got anything weird?”

“Don’t say things like that, amor!”

♤ ♤ ♤

daniel ricciardo.

“Danny…?”

“Shit-!” He jumped out of surprise, dropping the box he was reaching from the top shelf of the closet.

“Oh, I’m sorry, mon soleil!” You squeaked, jumping back as well. You hadn’t meant to scare him, but it wasn’t your fault he was so focused in the dead of night. You were just curious is all. The box he dropped was was rectangular in shape, but easily bigger than a shoebox. You shot him a sleepy grin, “What do you have there?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “Why are you up, sleepy girl? Get back to bed, I’ll be right there. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’m up because you’re up.” You wrinkled your nose, inching closer to him with a small blanket in your arms. You tried to get a glimpse of what fell out of the box, but Daniel wrapped himself around you so you couldn’t see. He wrestled the blanket from your fingers, careful not to be rough with long nails, and threw it over your head with smile.

As you wrestled, your boyfriend only laughed and placed kisses on any part of you he could without being hit by your flying limbs, “Pretty things like you should be asleep. Your brothers would kill me if they knew I disturbed your beauty rest.”

“Are you trying to hide something from me?” You pulled the blanket off your head, hair a mess.

Daniel froze, jaw clenching as he tried to hold a toothy smile. But he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. The moment was completely still, before you finally broke eye contact and crept passed him to see the mess on the floor. You could hear Danny gulp as you plucked the first item from the ground; a pretty, navy blue set of lacy underwear. Yours, yes. But from ages ago, you swore you lost them. Then there were a few pieces of jewelry, a lipstick tube, a silk scrunchie, a press-on nail, a red heel, and two pieces of now-hardened chewing gum. All yours from various points of this past year.

“Daniel,” no, not the first name, he begged internally, squeezing his eyes shut, deciding to just wait for the inevitable disgust and rejection. You never called him by his full first name, only sweet ‘danny’s his way, sometimes ‘mon soleil’ or ‘sunshine’.

“You know you can just ask for my things, yes? You don’t have to take.” You were looking right up at him, navy colored panties still in your hand like you didn’t even mind that he took them. His reasoning couldn’t have been pure, you know that.

You hummed, pulling at his fingers so you can shove the underwear into his balled up fist, “lá.”

“Perfect girl.” He muttered, pulling you back into him and dragging you to bed, “give me the pair you have on then, yeah?”

♤ ♤ ♤

max verstappen.

It wasn’t always like this with you— you used to be just Charles “track terror” Leclerc’s pretty little sister, a little girl. But now it was years later and you’ve become something perfect and irresistible— something he can’t live without. He knows he’d resorted to some immoral, if not a little creepy, behaviors, but it’s not like he’s one of those guys that would ever hurt you. No, you’re a deity to him. He told his sister about his feelings at one point (even thought about showing her the shrine), but she told him— “This is all because you watched You!” The Netflix show that follows a stalker.

So he took down the shrine— moving most of it into his bedside drawer and the rest under his bed. But he realized he didn’t think it all the way through when he had you in his room for the first time; all pretty and perfect and curious.

“Good race, Maxie.” You hopped back onto the bed, your hair bouncing as you landed, “You’re so tense and for what, huh?”

Max had just a little bit of shame about the whole thing, but maybe not too much. I mean, his body definitely felt some kind of physical guilt or something if you’re judging him by the shaking and sweating— but his mind was happy. You were here with him in his home. In fact, the physical reaction might just be from seeing you curled up in his bed. But you’re close to finding out how… intense he was. (As his mother would say.)

“Sorry, lief, I’m just tired and you’re distracting me by being cute.” He smiled down at you as he began to change, “you need a shirt to wear?”

“Yes, s'il te plaît. Hey, can I put my bracelets in here—? oh!” He’d barely turned his back for a second, just long enough to remove his shirt, but that’s all it took for you to pull the drawer open and see the copious amount of photos of you (some edited to have him in them) and unsent love letters.

“It’s not a shrine— I’m not a creep! It’s just some things I made back before we got together—! You weren’t supposed to see them!” He was trying to shove some of the papers back in, but you were already skimming one of the letters.

“Mijn hart,” he winced at seeing the one you had— one of the more unhinged ones. The worst of it was in Dutch, so that worked out for him at least.

“Oh c’mon, Maxie! It’s kind of sweet! You had such a big crush on me! It’s a little hot, even.”

He grew even more red and fidgety at that, “Shit.”

You giggled at the words you could understand before he wrestled the page out of your grip. You grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek before he could stray too far.

“From Max Verstappen-Leclerc, hm?”

♤ ♤ ♤

oscar piastri.

“Can’t I just grab a hoodie, Osc?” You questioned as he held you in place on the counter, from his spot between your legs, still in his race suit.

“You don’t need one, Lovey, it’s hot.” He pressed himself into you so he could feel you breathe better. You’d asked for a jacket the moment you’d entered his freezing trailer just after the race. He saw you go for the closet and quickly redirected you onto the counter.

“Non, you’re hot because you just raced in a little car for hours and now you’re all over me. I am normal temperature.”

“Cold?”

“Yes.”

“Then get closer, I’m hot.”

You huff obnoxiously like the pretty spoiled girl you are and Oscar can feel the rush of serotonin he got just from the sound. He knew this is the part where you’d get cute and pretend to pick a fight, his sweet thing. But bad timing— he’s desperate to hide his secret now.

“I can’t get any closer to you if I trieddd. What? You have a girl hiding in that closet? Hm?” He scoffed into your shoulder, but stiffened, knowing just what was behind that door.

You gasped dramatically, likely playing it up to get what you wanted (a tactic you used with your brothers, Oscar noticed), “You do! Irréelle!”

“I don’t!” His face shot up from your shoulder, brows furrowed, but he didn’t let you go, “You know I don’t like any other girls!”

“Then you need to show me so I can be sure! And I’m still cold.” You crossed your arms and pulled your knees together to get him to back up.

“I can’t.” He choked out. “There’s— it’s just— I have this thing—”

You hopped down and booked it across the trailer before he could reach out and stop you, yanking the door open to see what your new boyfriend was hiding.

You breathed out a dramatic sigh of relief at the sight, “Goodness, Osc.” Rather than finding a person, you instead found some sort of… collection? Collage of yourself and your things? Photos mostly, magazines, and lots of hearts drawn on articles about you.

Oscar grabbed you by the shoulders and quickly spun you around into him, slamming the door, “You saw?”

Looking up at him with big eyes, you nodded, “Yeah, why? You really like me that much?”

“What? Yes— yeah I do. You—? Okay.”

♤ ♤ ♤

pierre gasly. | kika gomes.

“I’m prepared to blame you for this if Charles finds it.” Pierre breathed, looking at the start of his girlfriend’s collection of your things. Kika scoffed, a smile playing at her lips as she re-organizes your makeup. Mostly lip balms, you’d let her borrow some of your things, not knowing she wasn’t going to give any of it back. Kika even managed to get a few skirts from you as well. The small framed photo of you sitting in her vanity was just a personal touch.

Pierre would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, but he could say he wasn’t surprised. He and Kika were a good couple, a good duo in general, but especially when it came to drawing you in. Because Pierre was such a good friend to Charles, it came pretty easy; Charles was easier on him around you. Unfortunately, that grace didn’t extend to Kika just because they were dating. Charles had something of a sixth sense for when pretty girls liked his pretty sister; so he was on to Kika. Where at the beginning it was nothing to get you alone with them, it was now next to impossible.

“Pierre? Kika? Are you home?” Wow it’s like they could hear your pretty voice— oh wait they gave you a key. To their apartment. In Monaco, where you live and you can really just waltz in and see all of the things they took (—yes they, Pierre is a thief too—)

Like two naughty school children, the couple shot up to cover what they’d done before you could reach their bedroom. This was their fault naturally, none of yours at all, they were the ones who encouraged you to come over whenever physically possible.

“Grab everything and I’ll distract her!” Kika whispered, rushing to slip out of the room.

Before the ‘not fair-’ could slip from his lips, his girlfriend was off to catch you, brushing passed him and leaving the door cracked. He could hear your surprised greeting, a cute squeak escaping you, before Kika saying something like ‘Oh, Pierre is busy now’, then silence. Pulling the handle back just an inch, he peaked outside to see Kika’s lips not even a centimeter from your own, her hands gripping your jacket for dear life.

“Oh, pretty girls, ce n'est tout simplement pas juste.” Slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. Your eyes shot to his, but Kika’s remained trained on your face. After just a second, your gaze drifted to Kika’s vanity behind him.

The couple froze, you saw. Pierre pulled the door shut behind him as Kika’s mouth opened to form words.

“Oi! Get your hands off my little sister, huh? Démon impoli et pratique, seriously.” Charles slipped into the living room from the front hallway, having obviously accompanied his little sister in her visit.

“Non, Charlie, Kika helped me when I almost tripped.” You smiled at your brother, quickly covering for them, “I was just coming to see if I could get my jean skirt back?”

You looked up at her so sweet and she thinks you’re blushing—“Oh.” She squeaked, “yes, no problem. Pierre.”

“I’ll get it for her, mate.”

“surveille ta copine. je ne suis pas aveugle, mate.”

♤ ♤ ♤

Your man (s girlfriend) is definitely creepy, girl.

note; I made kika and pierres a lil longer bc they’re two ppl so yeah ft charles

thinking part ii with lando, mick (ft the schumachers), lewis, lance, alex & lily, george and carmen?

- ren

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin abt Dad Bod!Miguel…

Ft. Daddy, Praise, n Size kink!!! (Duh.)

[NSFW]

You leave the classroom after enduring the most stupid 3 hour 8am lecture that you needed for a stupid credit for the stupid degree that you cried and prayed for.

Your spirit is immediately lifted once you see your boyfie waiting outside of the building for you, the six-foot-nine man leaning against his car like a total poser. His burly arms are crossed, which makes his pecs bulge through his shirt even more. In your opinion, he fills out his button-up perfectly; the short sleeves barely able to contain his biceps, the hairs of his chest peeking out the first three open buttons… and his soft belly. Perfect for naps. You couldn’t see it from here, but you just knew his ass was lookin good in those jeans, too. You crash into his arms, kisses planted on your head. “Missed you today, mamita.” He mumbles into your hair. “Missed you more, baby. Now, please, take me home.”

You step in the house and face plant onto the couch. You could’ve fallen asleep right there, but you feel a breath on your ear, “Mamita, aye…”, you lift your head with a “hm?” toward the gentle voice, “Mama, ven a la cama… será mejor que’l sofá, beba… ven, ven…” you let out a small ‘Mph’ when you’re peeled off the couch. Miguel scoops you up bridle style, as if you were a feather, and takes you to the bedroom.

Once you sluggishly remove your clothes, down to your panties and tank top, you, again, face plant into what feels like heaven (your bed). Miguel goes to change so that he’s just wearing his boxers. He stops in front of the full-body mirror, looking at himself. His muscles are still there, but he isn’t too happy with what he sees, having gained some weight since being with you, but more importantly, he wonders if you think the same. Even a little bit.

You smile to yourself as you feel the stomach of your lover pressed against your back, wrapping you with his strong, hairy arms and entangling his thick legs with yours, cocooning you in a bundle of warmth. “Comfy, mamita?” He presses a tender kiss on your temple. You sleepily nod your head against the pillow, blissful in your position as little spoon. There’s a moment of peaceful silence as his calloused hand starts to affectionately rub your back under the tank top.

The thought still eats at him, though.

“Bebe…”

“hm?”

“Esta feliz conmigo?”

“What?” Your head snaps up toward him. There’s genuine concern in your voice.

“I love you, that’s no question, but if you want to have your college fun, you should be able to. I don't want you to miss out on experiences because of… me. ” You sit up now, looking at him with furrowed brows, “What’re you talking about?” He looks down at the bare skin of your thigh, a deep, discouraged sigh escaping his lips as his pointer finger caresses the skin there, “I just want you to be happy. More than anything.”

In one swift motion, you straddle him. “Missing what? Those dumb frat parties filled with little boys who wouldn’t know how to handle me? You’re so silly, baby.” You press a tongue-filled kiss on his lips, and a low growl erupts in his throat. “Ugh, I’d miss out on a million parties if it meant having all this.” You murmur against his lips before starting a trail of kisses down his torso, even with an occasional nibble, the warmth and hair of his skin meeting your lips the whole way down. You worshipped every inch of his thick body with your lips, all the way from his broad and hairy chest, his stretch marks, to his chubby midriff, down his mouth-watering happy trail, and finally to the hem of his boxers, where a bulge began to form.

You look up and give him a sultry look, “No college boy could ever compare to my fine ass hubby." His voice becomes strained, breath labored as you take your index finger and rub precise circles on his wet tip through his boxers, making him hiss. “fuck, mami… what did I do to deserve you? Eres una Bendicion, tu sabes?”, he caresses your cheek with his thumb, “Scored a fucking goddess… I’m so fuckin’ lucky. No sé cómo conseguí una mujer como tú..” he coos.

"And you’re so big n’ strong n’ handsome, Daddy. I love it.” Your voice combined with your touch made his dick twitch, his now angry tip slightly peeking out. You fail to fight back a small moan when you release his pretty cock from the confines of his boxers, it springing against his lower belly. Drool began to form in your mouth. You haven’t even tasted it and you were already cock drunk. “love this cock s’much…so perfect.” you mewl as you slowly begin pumping his cock. Miguel pathetically looks down at you; The prettiest girl in the world showing him the attention he doesn’t feel worthy of but oh so deserves. “Awe, You want daddy’s cock, don’t you, baby?” He tuts, his voice all sweet and pouty.

“Mhm,” you nod, a meek expression on your face.

“Let me show my man just how happy I am to be his.”

And any self-doubt that Miguel had about you being with him was poof! Gone.

*sighs* He sew cewt. Hope u liked it <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Suburban Legends

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: fernando alonso x wife!reader

♥ synopsis: for your husband's birthday you decided to gather the help of the grid in order to create the perfect surprise party.

♥ smau + written - fc: amanda seyfried and girls on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing, mentions of liquoir, and some suggestive-ish jokes !!!

♥ a/n: here's a fernando fic for his birthday! (even though it's already passed by now) tysm to the anon that requested this! I will also be toying with the way I format my fics because much like hobie brown I don't believe in consistency lol. if you want more fernando x wife!reader fics @theyluvkarolina put out one earlier this week and you should go show her some love <3

-Belgium 2024-

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton, nicorosberg, and 1,183,502 more

yn.alonso belgique with nando and our girls <3

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user1 why is her ten year old more aesthetic than me

user7 fanciest family ever

user3 wish I was there

user6 nando looks SO fine

user8 what about Y/N SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS

user10 I cant believe nando's birthday is this week

jensonbutton he's so old

user5 @/jensonbutton you're older than him but go off 😭

user2 my favorite DILFS

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Your husband Fernando never made his birthday a big deal, but when your daughters begged you to throw him a surprise party, you just had to agree. It was adorable how much they cared about his special day and you knew he'd appreciate it.

Usually his birthday consisted of a stressful race, but since it fell on a Monday this year, it was the perfect opportunity to get everyone together.

This was why you were with Lance. You weren't really "alone" with him either. Not even ten minutes after the picture was posted Nando had dropped off your kids to take them to the beach.

You watched as the girls walked along in the sand, picking up any seashells they found.

"We have everything right? Balloons? Venue? Everyone RSVP'd?" you fidgeted with your bracelet.

"Yes, Y/n we have everything," Lance responded.

"Good. I just want this to be perfect."

"It will be," he smiled.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lancestroll, fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri, and 972,743 more

yn.alonso brunch & beach with the girls favorite uncle @/lancestroll

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lewishamilton I thought I was the favorite uncle?

fernandoalo_oficial you wish

user1 am I the only one who thinks y/n and Lance are kind of flirty?

user6 yes you are the only one.

nicorosberg the twins have gotten so big

yourusername I know 🥹

user21 wait I'm new to f1. I didn't know Fernando had kids???

user8 @/user21 yea him and y/n have three :) all daughters, making him an unbeatable girl dad. The twins Mariana (the brunette one) and Sofia (the blonde one) are ten and their one year old is named Isabella <3

user3 no bc its so cute that the twins have each of their parents hair colors

user7 lance's job is beach

user12 he is SO Ken

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

Nando couldn't help but notice the way your phone vibrated on the dinner table. This has been going on for a few weeks now. People calling you at odd times, your phone blowing up with texts, randomly going out with the grid...

He knows you would never cheat on him, but he still found it strange that you'd never mentioned anything about this to him. Up until now, you told him everything.

“Who is it?” Fernando asked, taking a bite of his meal.

Mariana and Sofia looked at each other with their eyes wide, not even trying to hide the fact they were in on your little secret.

”What’s this,” Nando gestured to the two girls with his fork. “What are you three up to?” he raised a brow.

”Nothing, mi amor. Let’s just finish eating, yeah?”

“Are you sure? This isn’t something I should be worried about? Sabes que puedes contarme cualquier cosa, ¿verdad?” - (you know you can tell me anything, right?)

“Si, I know. It’s nothing to be worried about. I promise.” you reassured him.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yn.alonso, lancestroll, astonmartinf1 and 648,942 more

fernandoalo_oficial p5 today

comments are limited

lancestroll we didn’t get the best team result overall but congrats on p5. let’s keep pushing

astonmartinf1 points 💪

yn.alonso proud of you ❤️

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Fernando's Birthday-

The day started off as it usually did. The twins were up super early to jump in the bed with you and cuddle up beside Nando, wishing him a happy birthday.

He always spoiled you and today was the day to return the favor. You made him and the girls breakfast in bed before taking them out sight seeing in Brussels.

"We have one more stop," you said to Fernando who was in the passengers seat.

You pulled up to the venue and led your family through the door. You were holding Isabella as the twins giggled the whole way inside.

-

"Surprise!!!" everyone yelled as the lights went on.

The room was filled with gold, white, and green balloons and a heart shaped cake was sitting in the middle of a long table.

Fernando smiled and turned towards you, "Mi amor what is this?"

"Your birthday party," you smiled back as his arm snaked around your waist. "It was the twins idea."

”I love you so much,” he said, kissing your temple and ruffling his the twins hair. He held his arms out to hold Isabella.

"Lets drink," Lando held up a bottle of alcohol making everyone cheer.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, and 1,592,484 more

yn.alonso happy birthday to the love of my life @/fernandoalo_oficial. you are the most incredible driver, husband, and father and these last fifteen years with you have been an absolute blessing. eres mi todo, mi amor. feliz cumpleaños - (you are my everything, my love. happy birthday) ❤️

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fernandoalo_oficial te amo mucho. gracias cariño ❤️

♡ by yourusername

lancestroll I'm not crying you're crying

carlossainz55 happy birthday cabrón

lewishamilton happy birthday fernando

user7 guys 🥹

user1 this is the cutest thing I've ever seen

astonmartinf1 happy birthday to our fav

♡ by fernandoalo_oficial

user8 THEY LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭

user2 if my relationship isn't like there's I don't want it

aussiegrit happy birthday mate

♡ by fernandoalo_oficial

[parkerflix]

—corazón despeinado

miles morales x gn! reader

genre: fluff?? angst???

wc: 1.7k

part two here

synopsis: your friendship with miles seemed to hit a sore spot. the reason? his hair.

warnings: atsv spoilers! like big spoilers! canon divergence (miguel would hate me sorry bae)

a/n: this is earth 42! miles! just put it under here since i put the warning okay read at your own discretion from here on!

“Ow! Que te pasa? That shit hurt, mami.” Miles sat forward, rubbing his scalp.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. Miles Morales was such a baby when it came to doing his hair. You loved doing his hair, and him letting you have full control of it, but hated how much he flinched.

“No jodas. I barely even pulled it. If you would sit still, maybe we could finish this faster.”

Miles grumbled under his breath and he sat back in the chair, wincing when you started up again.

You had been doing Miles’ hair for years, Rio being your mom’s best friend. You guys spent summers and most weekends together, always having some sort of party. Your mom owned the neighborhood beauty salon & had been showing the ropes to you.

Miles always came to you when he wanted his hair done, or if he just wanted to see you.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight? Got a steamy date?”

Miles rolled his eyes.

“A date?”

“Yeah, a steamy date with some beautiful woman or man! Or romantic, a nice stroll on the street, the sky full of stars, going to a nice dinner.”

“Ya tu sabes, I’m not the type who does those types of dates.”

“Oh, so it is a date?”

“Mira, I don’t think there’s anyone I would date.”

You reached down in your apron to grab a hair tie to finish one of his braids.

“And why is that?”

You were so focused on his braids, that you didn’t notice his eyes staring at your face through the mirror.

Miles knew that he wasn’t into anyone the way he was into you. He wasn’t sure if you knew that he liked you. Miles thought it was fairly obvious, he gave you little gifts that he knew you would like, and spent most of his time with you. His mom had pretty much adopted you into his family, showing you how to make his favorites like mofongo & empanadas. For someone so bright, you seemed to not catch the hints he threw at you.

His silence caught you off guard & you stared at him through the mirror, a little surprised to see he was already staring at you.

“Miles?”

He seemed to snap out of whatever train of thought and sent you a half-hearted grin.

“Enough about me. What about you? Any plans?”

You shook your head, laughing slightly.

“Nah. Te recuerdas de ese guy que salí con like ages ago?”

Miles hummed as a signal for you to go on.

“Well, he asked me out again and as much as I loved the first date, I just wanted to spend the night by myself. Nothing sounds better than a cheesy movie & takeout.”

Before he could say anything else, you finished his last braid and tied it off.

“Ya terminé. What do you think?”

Miles got up from the chair and glanced at himself in the mirror, admiring your work.

“It looks good.”

You clapped your hands and gave him a hug.

“I’m so glad you like them! I know they’re a little different than usual but I thought they suit you.”

He nodded and gave you a small smile.

You were about to say something, when his phone went off.

“Girlfriend texting you?”

He rolled his eyes and pulled his phone from his jacket, seeing his uncle ask him where he was.

“Ya te dije, I don’t have anyone like that. I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded and started to clean your station, hoping if you finished early you could leave.

Miles placed a chaste kiss on your cheek & made his way towards the door.

“I’ll take you out for breakfast tomorrow!”

He walked out of the door, leaving you smiling and shaking your head at how cute he could be sometimes.

You had left the salon late in the afternoon, taking a few of your mother’s clients while she handled a few other clients. You weren’t licensed just yet, but you knew you had the skills and experience to get your license as soon as you finished high school.

Your mom had some more clients after you had left & told you she wouldn’t be home tonight as she was planning on having a girls night with a few of her friends.

You had finally got home & changed into a shirt and shorts, ready to just relax and watch some movies. Rummaging through the fridge, you realized that you actually did have to order takeout, since there was nothing already made.

Checking the time, you figured you could swing by the local pizzeria, and stop by the supermarket for some ice cream. Grabbing your bag, you slipped on some easy shoes and made sure to lock the door.

At the pizzeria, you had ordered your food, and were just waiting. Sitting at one of the booths, you were slightly confused when you heard Miles’ voice come from the counter.

You turned to take a peek, and saw Miles there with a completely different outfit, and most noticeably, his braids were gone.

You were annoyed, his braids took you some time & he had already taken them out. If he really hated them, why didn’t he just tell you?

Going up to him, you tapped his shoulder.

He turned around and saw you, giving you a confused look.

“No me das esa cara, si no te gustaron, you know I would’ve changed them!”

Miles gave you an even more confused look, and started to really piss you off.

“Okay, why are you giving me that look? Seriously if you didn’t like the braids, I would’ve fixed them.”

“Braids? Do you have me mistaken for someone else?”

“Your name is Miles Morales, right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Then no, I’m not mistaken. God why weren’t you just upfront about it with me? I would’ve done whatever you wanted, you know that.”

“Uh—“

“What? Are you too cool for them?”

“No I just—“

“I bet you do have a hot date huh! That’s what it is.”

“Hot date? Definitely not. I am so confused.” Miles said, awkwardly scratching the nape of his neck.

The guy at the counter called your name, and you pointed to Miles.

“Stay here. We aren’t done talking about this.”

You rushed up to the counter, and grabbed your pie, thanking him and ran back to Miles, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him with you.

Once outside, you dragged him to your apartment building, stopping at the stairs, placing your pizza box there.

“What’s going on with you?”

Miles just stared at you, not sure how to tell you that he wasn’t who you thought he was.

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and frowned. Miles rarely apologized, even when he had done something. He had always sweet-talked you into not being mad at him, knowing that you had a soft spot for him.

“An apology? That’s a first. Miles, I just wanna know what’s been going on with you. You make plans with people and don’t tell me who, which like yeah I guess I’m not entitled to that information but—” you were cut off when he hugged you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stayed like that for a second. You knew Miles. He wasn’t a PDA sort of person and he wasn’t big on hugs either. He wasn’t telling you something, and it seemed to weigh heavy on him.

Before you knew it, he had unraveled himself from you and you both were standing away from each other.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure this will all make sense eventually but I really gotta go.”

He gave you a look that you couldn’t decipher and left you, pizza still on the steps, getting cold.

You didn’t hear from Miles until the next morning, knocking at your window.

You groaned and threw a pillow in that direction, knowing it probably missed.

The knocking kept going, so you got up and went to open the window not even sparing Miles a glance.

You trudged your way back into bed, making space for the both of you. He laid down next to you, having a debate if he should pull you close to him.

“Amor, what’s wrong?”

“Be quiet. I'm still trying to sleep.”

Miles let out a huff and poked your side.

“Miles, leave me alone.”

“Que hice?”

“What do you mean ‘que hice?’ We talked about this. If you didn’t listen to me at all then why are—”

You turned to face him, quickly realizing the small space in between the two of you.

You stared at his face, the sunlight giving him a soft glow. His eyes even were a different shade of brown, turning more like pools of milk chocolate. But what stood out to you the most, was his hair, in braids, neatly as if they were never out of them.

How was that possible? You saw him the night before and he didn’t have them. What was happening?

Miles called your name and you blinked, face feeling flushed at your gawking.

“You have your braids.”

He gave you a confused look.

“Yeah?”

“But last night you didn’t.”

“Last night? I don’t remember seeing you last night.”

“You’re joking right? I saw you and we talked and you left in a hurry.”

You sat up and sighed, confused and frustrated as to why he wouldn’t remember this.

“Are you sure it was me?”

You stared at him. Why did he have to say it in such a condescending tone?

“Yes, Miles. It was you.”

“It couldn’t have been me.”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Maybe a bit delusional. Guess you missed me that much.”

You were beyond frustrated now, and got out of bed.

Without a word, you pulled him out of bed and walked him over to your window.

“What— seriously que te hice?”

Crossing your arms, you looked away from him.

“The fact that you don’t even remember our conversation yesterday, and the fact that you’re acting like it never happened and you weren’t being weird— I can’t.”

“You can't do what?” Miles' voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat.

“I can't do this right now. You should go.”

“But-“

“Miles.” you whispered his name, feeling so many different emotions. He knew that you had made up your mind and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

With that, he climbed out of your room and went down the fire escape.

You sat in your room, confused by everything and feeling something new, something like a heartache in your chest.

[shurisgf]

armando headcanons of him as a bf ?

HEADCANONS — A. ARETAS ✩

ೃ⁀➷ SUMMARY; in which , these are my hottakes on how i think armando is as a bf. | FEAT. Armando Aretas x POC!fem!reader | TROPE established relationship | FORMAT headcannons | GENRE fluff | WARNINGS tiny bit suggestive | NOTES my man my mannnnn

` definitely the type to spoil you even if you protest against it

“Bebé déjame mimarte.”

“No, that necklace is too expensive,”

“Sabes que te lo voy a comprar de todos modos, mamá.”

` he’s a quiet man, so you two often just cuddle in silence

“Te amo” Armando whispered as you laid on his chest, his hands gently caressing your back.

` so overprotective its crazy

` always keeping an eye on you in public

` he’s not into pda, but when you two finally get alone, wheeew

“He querido arrancarte ese vestido toda la noche mamá” Armando grunted as he closed and locked the front door of your shared apartment.

“¿Qué te detiene?” You smirked in return.

` the two of you will try and do a movie night, but end up making out instead

Armando’s hands caressed every square inch of your body, as he went from caressing your back to your ass, while you straddled him on the couch the two of you were on. Your lips perfectly molded to his, as you rock your hips on his, causing him to groan into the kiss. “A la mierda la película.” He groaned, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom as you giggled in his arms.

` will teach you how to defend yourself on his days off

` 100% openly stares at what’s his

` will definitely fix your attitude

“Armando I’m not going to sit down, what the fuck?” You irritatingly stated, trying to find something on your phone after having a disagreement with him.

“No te lo voy a preguntar ni a decirte más, ven a sentarte.” He sternly said, in his calm, yet assertive voice.

` curses in spanish all the time and it’s so hot

` will say the most basic and everyday things but it gets you weak in the knees every time

GLOSSARY !

Bebé déjame mimarte — Baby, let me spoil you.

Sabes que te lo voy a comprar de todos modos, mamá. — You know I’m going to buy it for you anyway, mama.

Te amo — I love you.

He querido arrancarte ese vestido toda la noche mamá — I’ve wanted to rip that dress off of you all night mama.

¿Qué te detiene? — What’s stopping you?

A la mierda la película — Fuck the movie.

No te lo voy a preguntar ni a decirte más, ven a sentarte — I’m not going to ask you or tell you again, come sit down.

©2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — SHURI'S GF. Do not modify, repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any work posted on this blog without my permission !

[juleswrites223]

Dad!Carlos Sainz x Mom!Reader ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Context: Your son is a menace in a car, just like Carlos was at his age

a/n: This is inspired by that video of baby Carlos in a car, drifting like a boss 😂. Also for Mateo's face claim i just took Carlos when he was a child to really give the feel that he is a carbon copy of his dad. I used google translate for the spanish.

“Mateo is an exact copy of Carlos no?” Reyes, Carlos’ mother says as you are out on a brunch date with her.

“Right?? Even the way he even scrunches his nose.” You say to your mother in law. “It’s unfair, I carried him for nine months, all for him to be a carbon copy of his papa.” You whine.

Reyes laughs and you guys continue talking then head to the car. As you’re fastening your seatbelt, the phone lights up with your husband’s caller ID.

“Hola cariño, have you picked up Mateo from preschool yet?” Carlos’ voice comes through the phone.

“Hi, I’m with your mom, we went out for a brunch date, I’m actually on my way to go pick him up right now, where are you?” You say as you pull out of the parking lot.

“I just finished golfing with my father, we were on our way back so I was thinking if it would take you more time then I would pick up Mateo.” Carlos says.

"No it's fine, the preschool is barely 10 mins away from here. How was golfing?" You say as you drive towards your son's preschool with your mother in law.

"I got a hole in one, th-", Carlos says as he's interrupted by his father.

"Hola Y/N, your husband cheated." Carlos Sainz sr, your father in law, says quickly.

"Eres sólo un mal perdedor, cariño. (you are just a sore loser, honey)" Reyes laughs as she tells her husband.

The conversation ends as you pull up at your son's preschool. His face lights up the moment he sees your car, as soon as you step in the gate, Mateo's joyous voice rings, "MAMAAA".

You pick Mateo up in your arms and carry him till the car while conversing with him. His face lights up even more when he sees his abuela in the car too.

"How was your day bubba? Abeula came too because she missed you." You ask him as you strap in him the baby seat.

"It was bueno (good). I did counting today." Mateo says as he imitates counting on his fingers.

"Mateo, tu papá te consiguió un auto en el que puedes conducir. (Mateo, Your papa got you a car that you can drive in)" Reyes says as you drive.

"¿Auto? como el de papa? (car? like papa's?)" Mateo tilts his head as he asks, clearly curious.

"Un poco diferente al de papa. (a little different that papa's)" You say as you guys arrive at you and Carlos' house.

"Hola hola." You greet your husband by kissing his lips when you enter and hug your father in law.

They seem to be watching moto gp but as soon as Mateo comes in with his abuela, he excitedly runs to his abuelo.

"Mateo ¿Qué pasa con papá? (what about papa?)", Carlos says as he feigns hurt.

Mateo's favourite one in the whole family is definitely his grandfather. Whenever people ask Mateo who is his best friend, he always says his abuelo.

Carlos sneakily goes to the abuelo-nieto (grandfather-grandson) duo and picks up Mateo and tickles him. Mateo's sweet laughter rings throughout the living room.

"Quiero ver bluey (i want to watch bluey)", Mateo whines and points at the tv when he sees the tv on but it's not showing his favourite show.

"Carlos, Sabes que quiere ver su programa cada vez que ve la televisión encendida (You know he wants to watch his show whenever he sees the tv on). You know what show him his new car, its in the backyard, that will distract him." You tell your husband.

"Mateo, vamos a ver tu auto (Mateo lets go check out your car)." Carlos says as he takes Mateo with him to the backyard. Mateo runs towards the car and immediately sits in it.

"Bebé, ten cuidado, ¿vale? No hay derivas, ¿vale? (baby be careful okay. No drifts okay?)", you say to your son.

Mateo, just like his father, drives fast and crazy. With every drifty turn he's making in his toy car, your heart drops to your stomach in fear he's going to hurt himself.

"¡¡CUIDADOSO!! (CAREFUL!!)"

"MATEO!"

"Mateo conduce bebé lento! (Mateo drive slow baby!)"

This is how he's driving for context.

You shriek until he finally stops and smiles for the picture his abuelo is taking.

"Bien, comamos y veamos Bluey ahora, ¿eh? (Okay, let's eat and watch bluey now huh?", You try to convince your son and luckily it works. He gets out of the car and dashes to the couch.

"¿Por qué le compraste ese auto peligroso? (Why would you get him that dangerous car?) He could have seriously hurt himself." You smack your husband's chest as he comes up behind you and hugs you from the back.

"Haha, Si te estás volviendo loco por esto, ¿cómo reaccionarás cuando empiece a hacer karting? (If you're freaking out about this then how will you react when he starts karting?)" He laughs and kisses you lightly on the lip and you guys walk inside.

It's later in the evening when you go over to the couch and kiss your baby boy's head, who is peacefully sleeping. "I just want him to stay safe forever. ¿es demasiado pedir? Como su madre, eso es todo lo que deseo. (is it too much to ask for? As his mother, that's all i wish for.)

"No siempre podemos proteger a nuestros hijos, pero podemos hacer todo lo posible para garantizar que se mantengan a salvo. Sentí lo mismo que tú ahora cuando Carlos era joven y empezó a hacer karting. (We can't always protect our children but we can do our best to ensure they keep themselves safe. I felt the same way you do now when Carlos was young and he started karting.)" Reyes says to you in hoping to aid your worry. And it does.

You cuddle with Mateo on the couch as you continue conversing with your mother in law while Carlos and his dad are preparing dinner. You look down at your son who is sleeping and looking at his adorable face, you know he's gonna be alright, but it doesn't hurt if you wanna do everything in your power to protect him for a few more years, right?

[bpmiranda]

The Bodyguard |l. howlett|

A/N: slow burn, friends to lovers, 1970s, bodyguard!logan x original character, organized crime, violence, drug use, brief mention of underage drinking, suggestive content

When Logan Howlett first began working with the Vasquez cartel, he was Emilio’s bodyguard. They were aware of Logan’s mutation, sought him out for that reason specifically. Logan figured if he didn’t need to hide while under the employment of the cartel, if he could make an ungodly amount of money, then what could the harm be to stick around in Tijuana a little while longer. The harm became obvious to him very quickly in the form of a sweet, yet smart mouthed little sister named Mercedes. The young Vasquez was dark-haired with darker eyes that seemed to be deep enough to drown in, a kind smile always adorning her pretty face, her wits sharp despite her age which wasn’t unusual seeing as she grew up around cartel men. Logan didn’t see her often, not much at all seeing as he had to stick with Emilio at all times of the day and night, but big brother adored his little sister and it wasn’t unusual for her to ride around with them from time to time.

That was how Logan learned that as sweet as Mercedes was, she was also incredibly irritating. Once she found out Logan was nearly a century old, she was always pestering him any time they were in the same vicinity. There was something about showing off her intelligence that she seemed to get off on and Logan was always left wondering what the hell he was doing when all these historic events were happening in real time around him. “I was fighting in wars, kid.” Logan muttered, not having an answer for her question about the first Olympic games. “I wasn’t exactly traveling for pleasure.” He told her as he glanced at her in the rearview mirror while Emilio chuckled in the passenger seat.

Mercedes couldn’t help herself. “1896, Athens.” She answered her own question and Emilio shot her a tired look.

“Is she always like this?” Logan asked him.

“Siempre, compadre,” (Always, pal.) Emilio said while the young Vasquez simply sat quietly with a triumphant smirk on her face that irritated Logan. “You get off here, hermanita.” (little sister) Emilio said they came to a stop in front of their father’s home which was always gated, always guarded. “Tell Pa Logan and I are dealing with the problem in Portezuelos.”

Mercedes gave her brother an interested look as she held onto Logan’s open window, peering past the bodyguard who was trying not to smell the scent of her hair, but failing. “Que problema?” (What problem?) She asked curiously and Emilio shook his head. “Dime!” (Tell me!) She pleaded and Emilio gave her a stern look.

“Go.”

With an eye roll, she took a step back and her eyes fell on Logan who realized he was staring at her. “Take care of him?” She asked, motioning briefly at her brother and Logan smirked.

“It’s my job, sweetheart.” He said and she beamed at him before turning and walking past the guards that let her past the gates into her father’s home.

The problem in Portezuelos was that one of the runners they used to move weight had stashed a great deal of product with the intention of selling it to a rival cartel. The problem had to be taken care of in a permanent way, that’s when Logan came in. Emilio and Logan dragged him out of his home, took him out to the desert because no one would ask questions when a body appeared with slashes like those of coyotes out there. It came in handy to dispose of people this way rather than with bullets, it flew under the radar as an animal attack. The man was dying, gurgling on his blood as Logan lit a cigar a few feet away while Emilio talked to him, told him there was a way to have avoided all of this. The dying man’s eyes fell on Logan suddenly and they stared at each other for a moment before he struggled to spit out through his own blood the words, “Mas sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo.”

The ride back was quiet and Logan couldn’t stop thinking about those words, running them through his head the whole drive. Emilio could tell and he suddenly asked, “Are you a religious man?” Logan looked over at the man beside him for a moment, his eyes falling on the diamond encrusted crucifix around his neck and Emilio chuckled. “I won’t be offended.” Logan smirked and shook his head as he turned his eyes back to the road, pulling up and parking in front of the Vasquez home.

“Nah, not really.” He said.

Emilio clapped his shoulder softly and Logan looked at him. “Then you have nothing to worry about, amigo.” He said before getting out of the car and then peering in at him through the window. “Come inside, have a drink. My father wants to speak to you.”

When they walked into the mansion, Emilio told him to wait outside the study. Logan sat in a leather chair with a glass of whiskey and he waited, listening to the conversation behind the thick oak door as clearly as if it were being had out here in the drawing room though he didn’t understand too much. A familiar flowery scent began to invade his nose and he looked up to see Mercedes coming down the stairs, her face lit up at the sight of him and it made him feel, well, good. “Logan,” She greeted, bounding over to him in her school uniform. “You’re back. Is Emilio here?”

Logan made a gesture to the closed study with his glass. “Told you I’d take care of him, didn’t I?” Mercedes smiled as she nodded and sat in the chair across from him, crossing her leg over the other as she folded her hands over her knee. His eyes fell on the glint that came from her chest and he noticed a crucifix around her neck, more dainty and simple than Emilio’s large, bulky pendant. “You religious?” He asked her and she nodded immediately.

“Catholic.” She answered.

“Catholics believe in the devil, right?” He asked and she couldn’t help the curious tilt in her head. “Can you translate something for me? Without laughing at my Spanish?” He added quickly and she was unable to hide a smirk, but she nodded. “Mas sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo.”

Mercedes translated his broken Spanish quietly, closing her eyes as she listened to the words in her head until they made sense. Logan watched her full lips move as she repeated the phrase a few times. “The devil knows more from being old than from being the devil.” She said, her eyes opening and falling back onto the man sitting across from her. His jaw tightened and she figured that he had heard that out there today as it was no doubt in reference to his age, the ungodly amount of time he has spent on this Earth. “Who said that to you?” She asked with concern etched onto her face and Logan shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who said it - he’s dead anyway.” Logan finished his whiskey and set the empty glass on the side table next to him. “Does it mean anything?”

“It’s just an old saying,” Mercedes shrugged and he gave her a nod that told her to continue. With a small sigh, she did. “You know that Lucifer was originally an angel, right?” Logan nodded, watching her as she didn’t seem to be shaken up having to talk about the devil as he assumed most religious people lived in fantasy worlds where everything was always good. It made him wonder if her faith truly brought her a sense of safety and comfort. “Well, some people might say that he is evil by nature, that he was born that way, you know? Others might say he became wicked simply because he’s been alive for so long.”

“What do you believe?” He asked her and she only shrugged, unaffected by the concept of evil. “You aren’t scared of the devil?” Mercedes shook her head more firmly. “Why?”

“I’m more scared of letting fear control my life.” Logan thought about her words for a moment, and he was about to ask her how she could feel so safe in a place like this, surrounded by people like her brother when the study door suddenly opened and they both turned to see Emilio coming out.

His eyes found Mercedes and he clicked his tongue while shaking his head. “You’re supposed to be asleep.” He told his sister who greeted him with a hug. “My father’s ready for you, Logan.” Emilio said as he led Mercedes out of the study while Logan stood up and made his way towards the office, but not before she suddenly grabbed his arm and turned him back to look down at her.

With her eyes on his, she unclasped her necklace and he quickly shook his head. “I have more, take it,” She insisted and Logan bent forward to let her place the chain around his neck. His hand involuntarily came to rest on her waist to balance her as she stood on her toes while she fixed the clasp securely and then she took a step back, beaming at him as he touched the crucifix. “Just in case.”

Logan chuckled, twisting the pendant between two fingers a few times before dropping his hand and nodding at her. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Their father paid Logan, thanked him for helping them out with their problem, and when he noticed his daughter’s necklace around his neck, he gave Logan a warning that she wasn’t to be touched, much less hurt, by anyone. Logan agreed, not saying anything more about their situation because there wasn’t one. Mercedes was only sixteen, Logan was a much smarter man than to let himself get hung up on some kid.

Five Years Later…

With the smoke wafting around her, the haze and the strobe lights made her appear to be a dream clad in a sparkly sleeveless, black dress and a pair of knee high white boots as she danced in the middle of the floor. Her hips rolled in rhythm to the music against her girlfriends, the joint in her fingers coming back to her lips. Logan had seen plenty of twenty-one year old girls go wild for their birthday, and when the cartel threw a party, they sure went all out. The club had been closed for the night of celebration, and even though it was only for friends and family, it was still packed. Logan had come to know most everyone here pretty well in the last five years since being hired as the bodyguard for a then still underground drug dealer. Big brother had made it big time and as he climbed the cartel ladder, so did the price for his head and anyone in his family, that included his sister. With the promotion, Logan went from being his bodyguard to hers.

After two years of guarding him, Logan was hesitant to take on the task of guarding her as he became so used to Emilio’s routine. Fortunately, Mercedes was easy to care for as she was not necessarily reckless or difficult to handle. The girl had a good head on her shoulders and she understood she wasn’t just any normal person, there had to be precautions. Even tonight when she was letting loose, she understood that she couldn’t be anywhere out of Logan’s eyeline. Much like the other nights before this one because no one was going to tell her that she couldn’t drink before being of legal age to do so. No one in Tijuana said ‘no’ to a Vasquez.

It wasn’t long before the weed she was smoking dried her mouth out and she came back over to him where he was sitting at the corner of the bar, watching her. “Can I get a-um-what was I drinking, Lo?” She slurred, grinning up at him drunkenly, unaware of her hand resting on his thigh.

“I think you should drink some water, sugar.” He said, turning to face her, slyly looking her up and down. How’d she get so grown up so quickly? He thought to himself.

Her bottom lip jutted out subtly and she slid her hand up his thigh a little further. “Come on, Logan, it’s my birthday.” She said in a soft, pleading tone.

Logan only shook his head, not able to keep the smirk off his face as he ordered her drink, “Another vodka cranberry.”

“Si!” She exclaimed happily while pointing at the bartender. “And get him another beer, cause he’s doing such a great job.” Her lips pressed to his cheek as she caught him around the neck with her arm and then she took her beverage back to the dance floor, leaving her joint in the ashtray he was using for his cigar.

“Drunk ass girl.” Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he took the new beer with a nod at the bartender.

At the end of the night, Logan drove her back to her apartment. After having grown accustomed to the privacy and simplicity of a college dorm, she didn’t want to continue living in her father’s home. Regardless, Mercedes lived in the nicer part of town, but it was still his job to make sure she got in safely, so he always walked her into the building. Sure, partly for safety, but tonight she was stumbling and refused to take her heeled boots off, even in this state when she could hardly stand in them.

“Esta sucio el piso, Logan.” (The ground is dirty, Logan) “I’m-I’m not walking barefooted.” She slurred, leaning into him until it was simply easier for him to carry her bridal style. “Oh, this is nice.” She sighed and she relaxed in his arms, her heavy head falling onto his chest as he easily carried her up the stairs of her building. Logan only smirked as he set her down in front of her door.

Mercedes fumbled around in her clutch, searching for her key, and then gave up as she handed the purse to him instead. Logan laughed, taking her key out of her purse and unlocking the door. “You are real wasted, sweetheart.”

Her index finger came up to her lips as if it were a secret and she stumbled through the door when she opened it. “I had a great birthday, Logan.” She smiled sweetly at him, kissing the pads of her fingers and then pressing them to his lips. “Thanks!” She called behind her and Logan watched as she left the door wide open while she fell in exhaustion onto her couch.

With a sigh, he rubbed his face, looked up and down the hall before walking into the apartment and closing the door behind him. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed.” He said, walking over to where she had begun to nestle into the couch.

“You can’t-no-it’s messy, don’t look in there.” She stammered sleepily as he ignored her and picked her up again to carry her to the bedroom.

It was messy. There were clothes everywhere as well as shopping bags, unopened gift boxes, and it reeked of weed. Her shoes were splayed out on the floor in a haphazard line around her bed. It was odd to Logan only because, in the few years that he had known her, she was actually quite neat and organized. This didn’t feel like her at all. “Your brother know you’ve got a shopping addiction?” He asked as he laid her in her bed.

Her dress rode up a little as she curled into herself and shook her head while he tried to ignore her exposed legs. “My brother barely calls me.” She mumbled, letting him take her boots off. Logan set them in her closet and turned around to see that she was trying to undo the zipper of her dress.

“Wait a minute, kid.” Logan said as he quickly pulled the blanket over her and she wiggled out her dress underneath the cover. “Jesus, you can’t handle your drink.” He laughed lightly, making sure she was tucked in when her hand then touched his arm and he looked down at her.

Her eyes were veiled with intoxication, but she seemed to be looking right into him, as if invading his mind as she squeezed his arm. “Thanks for being here for me, Logan.”

“It’s my job, sugar.” He said.

Mercedes shook her head, smiling up at him as if she knew something he didn’t. “No, you’re more than the guy hired to keep me safe.” She yawned suddenly and her hand slipped off his arm as she began dozing off. “You’re my closest friend, Lo.”

In the morning, Logan found himself to still be in her apartment, having fallen asleep on her couch. It wasn’t unusual, he had spent a few nights on her couch before, but last night it was for more reasons than simply wanting to make sure she was okay. There was something going on with her. With a light groan, he got up and checked on her through the crack of her door and saw she was still asleep. He figured she would be hungry and hungover when she got up so he left to grab some breakfast for the both of them, wondering what he should do as far as his suspicions of her going through some sort of depressive episode given the uncharacteristic appearance of her apartment and her behavior.

Logan had met Mercedes when she was just sixteen years old, she was a sweet girl with not one bad bone in her body. It took a few times of her humbling his intelligence before they became friends. She was studying to go into nursing, never was the type of drink or do any drugs which is uncommon for someone so close to this kind of organization. However, that clearly changed recently. Probably around the time she left for college, the same time their father had passed away, and Emilio had far too much going on with the business he inherited and the wife he married to be able to keep an eye on his sister like he used to do. That’s when it became Logan’s job to watch her and he developed a strong sense of responsibility over her.

When Logan returned to her apartment, he could hear the shower running and the faint sound of her puking in the bathroom. “‘Cedes,” He called as he took off his brown leather jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “You alright, kid?”

“No,” She called weakly as he stood outside the bathroom door. “I think I’m dying, Lo.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head as he slowly opened the door when he heard a flush and saw her sitting on the bathroom floor in her robe, leaning against the tub as she rested her head on her knees. “Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed, stepping in to help her. Logan picked her up and sat her on the closed toilet lid, kneeling in front of her and picking her little head up in his hands. “You look a mess.”

“Thanks.” She grumbled, pushing his hand off her face and sighing. “Never let me drink again, please.”

Logan laughed, knowing that to be one of the most unserious requests a hungover person always made. “I warned you not mix the grass and the drinks.” He reminded her as he caressed her leg, feeling the softness of her calf as he looked at her pitifully. “Can you get in the shower on your own?” He asked and she nodded, letting him help her to her feet. Her hands held tightly onto his strong arms and he waited for her legs to stop trembling before letting her try to stand on her own. “Got some coffee and breakfast waiting for you. It’ll make you feel better.”

Logan left her to wash up while he went to her bedroom and looked around at the mess, shaking his head with his hands on his hips as he tried to find a place to start. Mercedes was currently on Spring Break from school, it was fortunate that her birthday fell in the same weeks so she could recover from the festivities. Logan wondered at what point her space became so untidy and why it had become like this in the first place. As he was picking up her clothes and putting it in the hamper, he heard the bedroom door open and she walked in with a towel wrapped around her body, her wet, dark hair falling over her shoulders and sticking to her arms and neck.

“That’s clean clothes.” She said, glancing at the garments he had dropped in her hamper as she opened her dresser and pulled some clothes out.

“How can you even tell?” He asked incredulously, looking around at all the clothes still scattered in different piles.

“I have a system.” She shrugged, slipping on her panties underneath her towel and then turning away from him so she could drop it from around her body and clip on her bra. Logan looked away from her as she turned back around and he heard her scoff lightly. “Please, it’s no different than seeing me at the beach in a bikini.” She said as she shook her hair out and dried it.

Logan figured she was right and he looked back at her. It was completely different. Her white strapless lace bra contrasted against her tanned skin, her brown nipples were almost visible through the intricate pattern. Her panties were the same lace material, cheeky and hugging her full hips. “What’s going on in here?” He asked, motioning to her apparently organized mess, trying not to be obvious with his staring. Logan would be lying if he said she wasn’t an attractive girl, but he had a job to do, first and foremost.

“I’ve just been going through something,” She mumbled as she pulled on a white tank top and tucked it into a pair of high waisted bell bottom jeans. “Don’t mention it to Emilio. He’s got enough going on.” Mercedes sighed as she sat at her vanity and chugged a half full water bottle that had been sitting there. Logan watched her pick up a roach and light it while she picked out a lipstick shade and some mascara from her makeup bag.

“It’s a little early to be toking, don’t you think?” He asked as he sat at the edge of her bed and watched her. Enthralled by the way she carefully applied her mascara while hitting her joint.

“What’s that American saying? Eat the hair of the dog that bit you?” Logan laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed the inside corners of his eyes and she tossed the empty water bottle at him. “Don’t laugh at me, gringo!” She chuckled before she turned back around and playfully glared at him through her mirror while she swiped a rosy shade across her lips. Logan couldn’t help his grin as he shook his head, stifling a chuckle. “Did you spend the night?”

“Not because I wanted to,” Logan said, wiping his eyes and looking up at her. “You were too far gone last night to stay by yourself.”

Her lips made a soft popping sound as she blotted her lipstick and she took another drag of her joint while she stood up and walked over to him, standing over him with her an arm crossed over her middle. “I appreciate it.” She offered him the joint and he shook his head, standing up and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Tell me what’s going on, ‘Cedes, this isn’t like you.” He said, looking around at her room with a worried tone that she couldn’t ignore. Her eyes fell on the crucifix around his neck and she chewed her lip anxiously. Logan truly was her friend and she didn’t want him to worry so much about her. The least she could do was have a conversation with him.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

This piece of writing is so very dear to me! I am so excited to share this story with you, kind readers. Please let me know what you think:)

The Bodyguard II

The Bodyguard III

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[luveline]

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have to find new ways to communicate when a cold leaves you voiceless. miguel is less than happy —featuring grumpy miguel and his cheerful spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 2.3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel's hackles hike as you appear. You have an obsession with toying with him and he's in the middle of something more important than your whims and wants.

"Don't start," he warns, barely looking at you. 

You point at yourself as if to say, Who, me? Grinning, you pull your arms behind your torso tightly, your shoulders harsh slopes where they'd usually be lax with calm. Your spider suit strains against the movement, shining with a subtle shimmer as you twirl your way into his side. You blink up at him, mock-innocent. 

"What did I just say?" he asks. 

He's expecting a charming rebuttal he doesn't get. You're awfully charismatic; Miguel often thinks you've manufactured a devilish siren call that yanks him in like a fish on a line no matter how hard he tries to split his lip and flee.

You're pretty, sure, but it isn't your looks that endear you to him. You have this way of speaking that's effortlessly carefree, despite the frankly ridiculous depth of the well that is your fondness for the world. It shouldn't make sense, and it does: you're happy because you love the world. When you speak to him, annoy him, praise him and degrade him in the same breath, Miguel thinks you might love him, too. 

You're silent. Miguel takes it as a blessing and finishes analysing the footage playing in front of him. He finishes as quickly as he can, and he's not a dick, he says, "Thank you." Then, with an unimpressed eyebrow raise, "Where have you been?" 

You come to see him so often he kind of forgot you didn't have to. He's taken you for granted, he knows, and after three days of not seeing you he should be happier. He should've asked you about it as soon as you appeared. 

You shrug and point at his screen. He can practically see the question mark in your eyes. 

"That's nothing. What, you're not speaking to me now?" he asks. 

Paper creaks in your hand as you pull a sketchbook from your pocket. Small, lilac, you flip to the first page and show him the scrawled message there with a rueful smile. 

Miguel's expecting a cartoon version of himself, but instead you've written three words. 

I have laryngitis. 

Miguel's gaze flickers between you and your book, assessing the claim with scepticism. "Why would you have that? You're practically impervious to disease." 

You flip to the next page. 

Superbug from Earth-87222 defeated my enhanced healing.

One of your Peter Parker friends lives there. He isn't jealous (because he knows that particular Peter doesn't like girls). "And you can't talk?" he asks. 

The next page. I can't talk.

You tuck the book to your chest. Lips parted, you attempt to speak, but all that comes out is hot air and a cruel croaking scratch that makes his chest ache. 

"Don't hurt yourself," he says, softer than he'd been speaking beforehand. He can't decide whether to glare at you or pull you in for a hug. If he hugs you, you might attach yourself to him like that thing from Alien. He glares. "You could've told me." 

You gesture to your throat. I can't speak. 

"That you were sick, you know how to type. You bother me every day for weeks and then one day you stop showing up, and you don't answer your watch, what am I supposed to think?" 

You stare up at him dreamily. He swears you get off on being scolded half the time. 

Miguel takes your wrist into his hand and turns your wristband forward to showcase the screen. "You see this? You see when my prompt comes up? You could take ten seconds and hit me back." 

Again, you open your small sketchbook, turning to a fourth page. You've predicted him well.

I didn't want to worry you. Don't be mad, handsome, you'll get more wrinkles. 

"Tu sabes todo," he fumes. You know everything. "If you're so smart, you can help me recalibrate the pocket dimension storage." 

You flip a page. It's finally a drawing rather than a knowing line, your familiar artistry obvious in your weighted linework and rushed shading. It's Miguel, his expression one he isn't sure you would've actually seen to reference as well as you have, lovingly concerned with a speech bubble coming from beside his softly rendered hair. Get well soon, cariño. 

He scoffs. "You seem fine to me." 

In truth, you don't seem fine. Now he knows, he can see evidence of your days away. Your lips are chapped under the balm you've applied, your hair dishevelled (though it's often unruly, in line with your personality). You wince when you breathe too hard. Miguel lowers the platform and sets you up next to him on a workbench in the back of the laboratory beside him for purely professional purposes. He has to make sure you're doing the calibration correctly, that's all. 

He can't quite explain away the tea he gets for you from the cafeteria, nor the research he does on the way back to you, Lyla at his shoulder saying, "You're such a softie." 

You find you don't need the sketchbook to communicate. Miguel places your tea down and your smile alone is thanks enough. It's pure reverential delight. He doesn't really deserve it, so he pretends he doesn't see. 

When you need help with a recalibration, you take his wrist gently. You don't even need to point at the screen, the subtle uptilt of your brows enough clue.

"Here, you're almost there," he murmurs under his breath, distracted by the complicated code you've been editing in the corner of the screen. "Oh, is this what you do when I'm not looking?" 

You tug his elbow. 

"No? You're not messing around?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "You think I'm stupid." 

Your fingers tighten. Miguel clicks a couple of things to finish the calibration. He looks at you from over his shoulder. Your face is near. It radiates heat. He bites the tip of his gloved finger and yanks it off clean to press the back of his naked hand to your forehead. 

"You're warm," he says, patting carefully downward. Your skin is as hot as he'd worried. 

Miguel drops his hand without rush, the side of his pinky tracing down your cheek. "Maybe you shouldn't be here." 

You shake your head vehemently. There's something in it he doesn't understand, an uncharacteristic shyness. He supposes he'd feel the same if he were sick like this, but you have no reason to be ashamed of a bad cold.

"Enough calibration, then. Take it easy." 

You do not take it easy. Your first port of call is to request to share his screen. He grants you permission and rescinds it soon after, irked when the majority of his monitor becomes wallpapered by digital post it note drawings of him looking cranky and of you in a crown, a ship's captain's hat, standing on the moon. He sets them each back to the perimeter of his window and tries to work. Trust you to find ways to bother him without teasing aloud. 

He thinks that… but then, his hands falter over the keyboard. You aren't a bother. You irritate him but he kind of likes it, most of the time. He turns his head just enough to see your face, blue and white light kissing your skin. You glow. 

Miguel thinks about how he used to do this alone. Lyla on his shoulder when she felt like it but usually tinkering in the quiet, trying to stop the end of the world, the pressure akin to how Atlas himself must have felt, knees locked and arms braced above his head to stop the Earth falling into the black abyss. Miguel doesn't always know what he's being punished for (or, he didn't). He doesn't know why this ended up on his plate, but the panic of doing it alone ebbs every day. With you by his side, unshakeable if not unfailing, it feels less like a death sentence and more like a problem that needs solving. He can't save everyone, but he can try. He can't stomach the agony of his life if he thinks about the past; you make it easy to stay present. 

Who would he rather have here than you? Out of everyone living that he knows, you're the only person he could stand to sit with for this long. 

It's not the same without your voice. Your murmurings, your kind doting, your put upon and less-so confusion. He misses it more than he can say in that moment, worse when you feel his eyes and turn to face him with a soft smile. 

Everything okay? you ask without asking. 

You don't need to speak. He can see it on your face. 

Miguel gets up from his bench to tower over you. Without giving it too much thought, he bends down, wrapping his right arm behind your shoulders, the left loose over your front, and kisses your forehead with the barest of pressures. It's hardly a kiss at all, and it makes no noise. More like he's resting his lips there, his nose at your hairline, breathing in. His hand rubs an up and down of its own accord into your upper arm, the soft fat of it melding under his touch. 

Your head dips back invitingly. You're like butter in the sun at his touch, a slow melting. 

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll deny it," he says quietly. 

You snort. You give his arm a pat and reach over it to grab your sketchbook. Miguel straightens but doesn't remove his arms, watching as you flick to the right page. 

I can't talk, the page says. You beam at him.

"I see," Miguel says. "You think it's funny because you couldn't tell if you wanted to." 

Your answering hum comes with the feeling of your fingers latching onto his elbow. Exactly. 

Well, fuck it. If you can't tell anyone, Miguel might as well send it. He leans down to grab you up into his hold, a squeezing hug that says everything he wanted to tell you while you were gone, his worry for you and his annoyance at your lack of communication. You don't need audible words to tell him things, and Miguel doesn't need words either. Hopefully his arms around you and his nose digging too rough into your temple says how he feels plainly. 

"I figured you got sick of taking orders," he confesses. You got sick of me. "When you didn't come back." 

You refuse to act small —Miguel doesn't want you to—, standing despite the weight he'd been resting on you, turning in the circle of his arms to look up into his eyes. It's too much, Miguel doesn't want your face this close to his, not with the rawness of his feelings aching a trail up between each of his rib bones, one by one. He clenches his jaw. 

Your hand climbs to his ear. He stays very still. As the initiator he should be forgiving, but your fingers touch his ear and he contemplates sinking his teeth into your hand. You stroke hair away from his face with a dramatised expression that says it's in the way, pesky stuff, though the final fond tuck of it behind the shell of his ear is impossible to deny.

Your thumb rubs his earlobe. 

"Are you having fun?" he asks dryly.

Your nod is sincere. Enthusiastic, you start to ease your fingertips into the thick tresses of his hair. 

Miguel grabs your wrist in an iron grip. 

"Enough." 

He guesses more than knows what your pout means —that isn't fair. 

"Life isn't fair," he says, pressing your forearm to your chest, an action fraught with apology. It's ridiculous how much can be said without words. He'd like for you to get your voice back solely to end this confusing misery. Well, not solely… Miguel misses the sound of it, distinct as your lopsided smiles and unconventional hand movements. "You can file a complaint just as soon as you get your voice back, how's that?" 

You roll your eyes and sit back down on your bench. Miguel takes a lap around the laboratory to calm down, returning to a new program blinking on computer his taskbar to be opened. 

He doesn't give you the satisfaction of looking your way as he opens it. 

"Miguel!" The program chirps, in a voice jarringly close to yours but not nearly as sophisticated as the majority of language intelligence he uses in his own coding. "I was waiting for you, handsome! Where have you been? Now you're back, I have a very special song to sing for you. Sing along if you know this one! Alright… Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine bottles of beer! You take one down, pass it around, ninety nine bottles of beer…"

Miguel realises he can't mute or close the program shortly thereafter. Vocaloid you counts down to sixty one bottles of beer by the time he resigns to turning off his computer altogether, a headache twinging angrily behind his eyes. 

Maybe he could use a break from your voice after all. 

You giggle breathlessly at him as he drops his face into his hands. 

"Drink your tea," he orders, words muffled by his palms.

He doesn't look up. There's the sound of a big sip. Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He's kidding himself —the sooner you get your voice back, the better. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[loohs-world]

Carlos Sainz x verstappen!reader

ynverstappen_ ✔︎ 1week

liked by maxverstappen1 and outher people

ynverstappen_ A stick ❤️😂

marked: kellypiquet

maxverstappen1 ❤️

kellypiquet I hope P didn't cause any problems

ynverstappen_ She's a sweetheart

carlossainz55 Tan hermosa mi amor ❤️

ynverstappen_ Amor mío ❤️💋

user 😍😍

lilymhe most beautiful pregnant woman!! A kiss on that belly and you ❤️

ynverstappen_ thank you,beautiful,big kiss❤️

user What a Goddess 😍😍

ynverstappen_ 💖💖💖💖💖

The comments on this publication were limited.

story

carlossainz55 ✔︎ 5hours

ynverstappen_✔︎ 14hours

liked by scuderiaferrari and outher people

ynverstappen_ Welcome,my little Aiden💙

My son is the most beautiful thing in the world, so calm, so quiet, he has such great strength! 🥰 Mom and Dad love you dear!! 💙

carlossainz55 Amores de mi vida ❤️❤️❤️

ynverstappen_ 🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️

maxverstappen1 Jezus, wat een geschenk ❤️🙌🏻

ynverstappen_ ❤️❤️

kellypiquet parabéns,amo tanto vocês❤️🥰 (Congratulations, I love you so much)

ynverstappen_ amo você 💖 ( I love you)

charles_leclerc 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

f1 What happiness!! God always bless 🤍

scuderiaferrari Welcome, Aiden ❤️😍

josverstappen7 ❤️

victoriaverstappen Zo blij dat je kleine zusje bloemen stuurt ❤️💐

ynverstappen_ ❤️

The comments on this publication were limited.

carlossainz55 ✔︎ 15hours

liked by pierregasly and outher people

carlossainz55 El día más feliz de mi vida 👶🏻💙 Aiden llegó te quiero hijo.

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️

ynverstappen_ 🤍😍😍🥹

user 🥺🥺

user Is no one going to talk about the rumor that came out? Carlos has another son????? 🤨

user It's just rumors, so far no one has proof, let's respect it, the guy's wife just had a baby

f1news Aren't you going to show the baby's face?

ynverstappen_ Not for now, let's wait until he gets a little older

f1✔︎ 🤍🤍

f1wags Congratulations Carlos and Yn ❤️

landonorris So adorable 💙🥰

alex_albon Beautiful! Health always 🥰🥰

aidensainz Estoy en línea chicos 😎✌🏼

daughtercarlando And so a blogger is born 😂

danielricciardo 😍😍

yukitsunoda0511 ❤️😍

sebastianvettel Congratulations Yn and Carlos, all the best for the new family ❤️

carlossainzoficial Mi hermosa familia, te quiero siempre y siempre ❤️❤️ (My beautiful family, I love you always and always)

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carlossainz55 e ynverstappen 2 horas

liked by fernandoalo_oficial and outhers people

carlossainz55 Un homenaje es poco para la importancia que tienes en nuestras vidas. ¡Yo y nuestro hijo te queremos demasiado! ¡Gracias por todo lo que hace por nosotros! ❤️❤️

user Stop, I'm crying like a baby lol🥺

user I want what they have 😍

user Yes, of course, you want a husband who was clearly unfaithful and that everyone knows that he had a baby out of wedlock

user Todo mundo sabe que isso é apenas um boato estúpido que alguém inventou, se isso fosse verdade, você não acha que eles diriam alguma coisa? Pare de acreditar nas besteiras que você encontra por aí 🙄

fernandoalo_oficial Enhorabuena por tu paquete de alegría!❤️ (Congratulations on your little package of joy!)

blogf1 😍

ynverstappen_ I love you so much 😍

ynverstappen_ My beautiful boys ❤️❤️

paddockgossip 😍

landonorris Excuse me,favorite uncle passing by 😎

danielricciardo I don't think so,friend🫸🏽

charles_leclerc Does anyone wake them up? Of course I'm the favorite 🤫

carlossainz55 Can you stop fighting for my son? Thank you

danielricciardo Do you see?! After he became a father, he got boring 😂

user 😍

user Yn, you're so beautiful😍

user 😻😻😻

user How is your experience as a mother for the first time? @ynverstappen_

ynverstappen_ Girl, all the time I cry, it's a blessing to love so much a little thing so dependent on these 😭 I only know how to think about the day he was born and cry, even more seeing the photos and the whole process for now he's here

user Omg excuse me, I'm going there to cry a little bit😭😭

francisca.cgomes A lot of beauty in this family ❤️

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[st4rymoon]

⋆｡˚ 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 彡

𝟏𝟖+ | 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎' 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

- 18+, unprotected sex, cream pie, nude! Videos being sent from both reader and Miguel, spanking, switch Miguel, language, teasing, riding!, bratty reader, nerdy Miguel <3, angry mig, fingering!, blowjob!, face fucking!, pet names

Part 3 of part 1 | part 2

Miguel was nothing like you imagined once you really got to know him and it came as a surprise to say the least.

It was obvious that you and Miguel were developing an unspoken relationship after he spent the night at your apartment. Although neither of you communicated about where you were headed with it, there was a change in Miguel's usual routine, even without exchanging any words.

He used to sit across the classroom, but now he was sitting right beside you. He used to eat alone most nights, but suddenly you were there by his side, eating your comfort foods together.

Neither of you thought much had changed, but the second time you sat together, your professor even brought up that the study session did both of you good.

Now you guys don’t look like you want to fight each other when when talking!

She said it with a smile on her face, suspecting that the coziness between you was more than just friends. But when it came to the presentation, she was even more amazed.

Never in her years of teaching had she stood up and clapped for a presentation but the work you and Miguel did on your topic was almost double of what she had asked for.

“What a presentation, I knew both of you would do great together and I was right!” She praised once more as both of you stayed behind to talk to her a bit.

“He isn’t so bad” you joke. Miguel on the other hand was smiling like a fool as he watched you talk on about how both of you managed to get the quality of work out in such short time. “Turns out you didn’t drop us two points” Miguel teased.

Your eyes narrowed at his words, he will never let that slide will he? “What do you mean?” The professor smiled “Nothing! He just always brings up beating me by two points on an exam” you sigh.

“Mmhm” she nodded. “Anyways, I don’t want to keep you any longer! Go on and have fun” she shooed you off just like before.

Miguel put his arm around your shoulder as you both left class. "I'm sorry for teasing you in front of her. I just like seeing you get mad," he said with a kiss on your cheek.

“Keep it up and you’ll be locked out of my apartment” you threatened. “Oh sure I will, you’ll be beggin’ me through the phone to fuck that pretty little face out the second you walk in” Miguel purred.

You rolled your eyes at his cockiness “like you won’t be sending me videos of you fucking yourself with your hand pft. Fuckkk jus’ like that “ you mocked.

Even if you were making fun of him you always loved the videos he sent you but it was always fun to tease him about it. You catch yourself thinking of his hand wrapped around his cock, fucking into his fist as he whimpered your name.

You can still see the image of his pretty thick cock coated in his cum as he overstimulated himself, his voice rumbling through the phone as he panted in lust.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t honey, I’ll say it with my chest that I like fucking myself to the thought of you. And I know you loveee it when I send you videos” Miguel cooed.

You rolled your eyes at his tone, cocky as always. “I’m going home” you scoff. Miguel pouted ay mami ya sabes que nomas te quiero fregar. I’m jus’ teasing baby.

“I have one class left but I’ll meet you at your apartment yeah?” Miguel sighed in annoyance as he looked at his watch “mhm, see you there” you nodded as he pulled you into a kiss “be good” he winked as he gave a final goodbye.

The second you turned around you smiled to yourself. An idea was coming to mind.

Miguel always got bored in his English class, as it was his least favorite subject being a science nerd. You thought of repaying him for all the videos he had sent you. To do so, you decided to send him a video for the first time today.

Once you made it home, you shuffled out of your shoes and almost ran into your room. Which matching set? The red lace? Black lace? Oh! You forget about the white one you had just ordered online. They’d be perfect.

Slipping your casual panties and bra off, you semi hurriedly change into the new brand new white lace set. You glared into the mirror as the white thin lace cupped your tits perfect, the pretty pink bows on each side of the straps sitting perfect.

The panties on the other hand were a thicker material with an outer lace detailing, it covered you up but still hugged the curves of your body beautifully.

Miguel would definitely be pissed. You can see it now, his fist clenched under the desk as he tries to stop the growing bulge in his pants from growing. And oh how he hoped no one else saw what you’d sent, he’d throw a side eye back to the person behind him just to make sure they weren’t looking at his screen.

You sat yourself down onto the bed, phone in hand. You opened the camera app and were faced with the reflection of yourself on the screen. You shuffled around to get the perfect angle of your tits almost spilling out as you laid back before pressing record.

You squeezed and kneaded each breast, moaning softly and only allowing your mouth to be visible on screen. You arched and squirmed as your hand ran down your body with your phone following.

The lighting in the room enhanced the visual of your pretty cunt being hugged by the white panties. Cupping and softly rubbing your cunt before ending the video.

You watched it over and decided it was good enough to send. Within a few clicks you were on Miguel’s messages, and just like that, sent.

You smiled as the small lettering on the bottom said read within a few seconds. While he watched you’d record another, now moving your panties to the side and giving the camera a full view of your glimmering cunt.

You rubbed soft circles onto your clit, letting out a soft moan as you rolled your hips onto your fingers. You didn’t even bother watching this one as you got back into the messaging app.

You could see the bubbles typing as you sent the other video, the cover being of your fingers moving your thin panties to the side. And just like that, the bubbles disappeared.

There was no reply for a few minutes, just the read letting you know he saw it. You watched your phone, waiting for a text but to no avail. Wow.

Was he just ignoring you now? Well, you’ll make sure it bothers him even more. You went on to send him another video but now your two fingers were pumping in and out of you at a messy slow angle.

The lewd sounds of your pussy making it pornographers dream. Once you sent that one, you knew he was staring at his massages because within a second the message said read.

You thought Miguel was ignoring you but in reality he was watching the videos over and over again. Even in class he managed the hide his phone between his thighs and give himself just enough room to watch his phone. He put on one AirPod and put up the volume.

He looked around making sure no one was watching him before he pressed play. He let out an almost audible moan as he saw your tits on full display, he squirmed in his seat as you lowered the phone.

He was going to say how pretty you looked until he saw your pussy as the cover to the next video. His eyes widened as he pressed play, you sounded like a fucking dream. Miggg I miss you so much, miss you inside me

He was only 30 mintues into class and he was paying no mind to whatever the professor was talking about. Then it just got worse.

He could feel himself growing hard at the visual of your short fingers trying their best to fuck your self the way he did, your pretty little whines and whimpers only turning him on more.

Miguel shut his laptop, messily packing up his things and got the hell out of the fucking class room. He could just read up on whatever bullshit the professor was going in about.

He had a tense look on his face, his body tense and now the once tucked hoodie now hanging lower down his legs.

You sat in your bed without a worry in the world, you laughed as you imagined how painful it was to for him to sit in his class and watch you play with yourself through the screen.

You had your headphones on as you laid on your tummy, listening to your favorite song with a confident smile on your face.

The sound of the your door opening didn’t make it through the sound cancelled headphones as Miguel threw his stuff onto the ground and stomped toward your bedroom.

A loud yell echoed through your apartment as you yelled from the harsh smack on your ass. You jumped out of your headphones and sat up in a matter of seconds.

But before you could even process what had happened you were dragged onto the edge of the bed, perched up infront of Miguel as he angrily stared down at you with his arms crossed“you think that was funny huh?” Was all he said.

You tried to hold the slight giggle slipping past your lips “just a little.”

He scoffed and pulled you onto your feet “you sure do look pretty don’t you? Turn around for me” he coldly seethed “I don’t want to” you mocked with a little smirk on your face.

“You don’t want to?” He repeated before yanking you into his arms and sitting on the bed. You were giggling as he manhandled you onto his lap “why not” Miguel huffed with his hand holding your face to his “because I like how you get when I don’t do what you want.”

You know you were being a bit bratty, something Miguel had never seen to this extent but oh how he sure was loving it. “You like it when I get mad huh? Why? Because you want me to wear out that bratty little attitude? Tell me.”

Miguel was angry beyond belief. He didn’t like knowing someone could’ve seen you on his screen yet he loved knowing if they did, they’d know you were his. “I do mig, I love it when you're all big and mean” you pouted as you grind your hips onto his.

He let out a deep groan as you did so. “Then I guess I’ll be just that” he hissed while flipping you onto your stomach. You were pressed against his legs, your ass in perfect view as your head dangled besides his hip “I don’t wanna wear a peep out of you” Miguel seethed as he squeezed the fatty flesh of your ass.

He groaned as he caught a glimpse of your plump cunt “look at that” he hummed as two of his fingers pressed onto your folds, the faint wet spot on your panties making him smile.

You giggled as he cuffed your panties and dragged them down your thighs. You could feel his cock pressing onto your waist as you laid over his knee.

Miguel’s thick hand smacked down onto your ass, the harsh hit making you flinch but were quickly met with his warm hands kneading the spot right after. “How many do you think you deserve” he questioned.

“As many as you think I deserve” you cooed with your hips wiggling up in the air. You were met with a satisfied moan from above as another harsh smack hit onto your ass.

After many harsh hits, you began to regret the effort to be snarky. You underestimated how heavy his hand was as he continuously spanked you and he was fully aware of it too.

The once giggly Bratty whines from you now growing shaky and tired. “It’s too much now? You said you could take it” he chuckled. You nodded as he kneaded your ass and giving you one last smack before dipping his two fingers into your cunt.

“She’s all nice and wet for me isn’t she?” Miguel dipped his fingers slowly into your gushy cunt. His fingers were now coated in your sticky cum with each pump of his digits.

Soft whines escape your lips as he let out a needy moan. Miguel was growing impatient as his painfully hard cock strained against his jeans so he made a quick decision to flip you onto the bed.

You whined at the loss of his fingers but were met with a sight that made your thighs clench. Miguel looked completely ruined, his hair was disheveled and his glasses were on the bridge of his nose.

He looked primal with his eyes boring into yours “you really walked out of class for me” you smiled as he pulled his shirt off and moved up the bed.

He ignored your words as he ripped your legs apart and settled himself between you. His jeans were still on as he buried himself into your neck, his hands squeezing your thighs as he pressed himself onto your cunt.

“You think it was funny to send me those in class? What if someone saw them, then what would we have done?” Miguel heavily panted. “I wasn’t trying to be funny, I just wanted to show you how much I missed you” you pouted.

You could feel how hard he was trying to hold back from just fucking you into the sheets. You didn’t know why he was holding back but you could guess it was to teach you a lesson.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm”

“Then show me” Miguel smiled as he began to unbuckle his belt. He kicked his jeans off and swapped positions. His hands held onto your thighs as you sat perked onto his lap.

“Go on” he nodded. You smiled as your fingers cuffed his boxers and dragged them down his thick thighs. You licked your lips at the sight of his grithy cock, you shuffled down to your knees and glared up at him with an innocent smile.

Miguel’s hips julted up the second you held him in your hand and took him into your mouth. A gruntled moan spills from his lips as you bobbed your head up and down, tounge twirling around his base just like he loves it.

His hand flew down to your head, his right hand guiding you as his deep moans filled the room “jus’ like that bunny, o- oh fuck! Fuck jus- like that yeah” he was muttering praises as you worked your mouth around him.

You hummed as his hips began to thrust into your mouth, both of his hands now holding your head in place as he fucked your face out “oohhh fuckkkk feels so fuckin’ good love, a- ah! Oh god” he seethed.

You began to breath through your nose as you gagged with each heavy thrust “that’s it, take it” he seethed with a deadly glare in his eyes. Your hands held onto his thighs as he brutally fucked your face, but before he could cum you fully pulled yourself out of his grasp.

He groaned angrily as you moved up his hips with saliva dripping down your chin. Miguel’s eyes squeezed shut at the loss of pleasure snd before he could scold you for stopping you he was met with your pussy sleeving his cock.

“Fucking f- ah!” He seethed as you held him down by his shoulders, using his cock like your favorite toy as your hips slammed down onto his cock. You watched as Miguel’s eyes rolled back, his glasses now laying besides him as he loudly moaned.

Miguel was always amazed at the way you rode him, your hips circling and slamming onto his lap. He could hear the lewd sounds of your pussy with each thrust.

He didn’t bother moving his hips as you rode him like a a personal stallion “feels so good mig, always feel sooo good” you cried as he hit the perfect spot over and over again.

He dumbly nodded as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, even catching the way your thighs began to clench. Your nails scratched down his chest as his fat cock stretched your cunt out perfectly, fulfilling every need and desire as you began to clench around him.

“Mig mig! Miguel oh fu-“ you cried out as his angry tip hit deep into your guts. Your moans filled his ears as you gushed around his cock, Miguel finally let himself cum as you fell onto his chest. His hands held your hips tightly as he softly runts into your cunt.

The lewd sticky sounds of both of your cum sounding like heaven. His heavy breaths and moans coming to a halt as you both came down from your highs.

“Guess you did miss me” he weakly smiled, his eyes almost closed as he pated your head softly, helping you relax in his arms.



[adoresia]

✦˚₊ TRUST ME I GOT NOTHING FOR YOU OTHER THAN LOVE…

Pairing : E42 Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : Miles finds it hard to open up to you about whats going on in his life, after a little persuading he finally tells you about whats bothering him so much.

Sierra speaks : FIRST OF ALL… thank you guys so much for all the love on my last fic it means so much to me🫶🏾🥹 it took so long for me to build up the courage to start posting… Here is another fic i had in my notes to make you guys happy! I litterally have a bunch of fics and fic ideas stored for myself and now..im sharing them with you!🥳 enjoy!! also this is a little longer than i had planned…

Warnings ❕: Miles almost crying 🥹, rubbish spanish, heavly suggestive (oops), kissing, cussing, teasing???.

Listen too’s :

YALL BETTER LISTEN TO THE SONGS I PAIR WITH THESE FICS ISTG.

You leaned on the railing on your balcony, eyes fixated on Miles’s tall figure walking back and forth outside your apartment complex.

It was well pass midnight and the street lights were the only thing illuminating the darkness of your Brooklyn neighbourhood.

He was by himself smoking a blunt. He knew you hated when he smoked so he attempted to keep it from you, however this time he couldn’t really hold himself back.

Life was dragging him through the dirt right now, with the passing of his father and the pressure of being prowler on his back, you could almost mistake Miles for being mute. A part of his life had been ripped away.

And you couldn’t blame him.

It was a struggle for him to open up to you, and despite being together for almost a year, he still struggled to talk to you, to fully open up to you. And even though you welcomed him into your life with open arms, he still did not feel complete. Nothing could replace what he had lost.

Before Miles had found himself outside the both of you were cuddling. With Miles laid between both of your legs, his head rested on your chest while you massaged his scalp with your nails.

Since his arrival he had not uttered a word to you apart from :

“hey baby, ima just stay here from a bit if thats okay.”

He hugged you tight, even tighter than ever before. You could tell something was up, but you let him go at his own pace, weather he wanted to tell you about it or not he knew you would always be there for him.

So here you both lay in silence on your bed, your sheets draped over the both of you. It was like that for an hour. Miles fiddling with the hem of your bra staring at your desk chair.

He blinked like 20 times in the last hour, you could tell he was lost in his thoughts. He looked so over it, and it pained you that there was nothing you could do to help him liven up a little. You kept assuring yourself that it would be temporary. Seeing Miles sad made you sad.

But as the minuted went by Miles stay lost in his sunken thoughts. You couldn’t bare watch him in this state for any longer, even if it meant you had to push him a little.

“What’s wrong hermoso? i’ve never seen you so…down.”

“Nada, Mami. just... thinking.”

“About what papa? sabes que puedes decirme cualquier cosa.”

Miles responded with a hum, not bothering to open his mouth again as it was smushed against your cleavage. The familiar sound of silence re-entered the room, theres nothing else you could say.

“Ima go outside for a bit baby, ill be back.”

He lifted himself off of you so suddenly, sliding on his shoes and giving you a peck on the top of your head without even giving you time to process.

“Where are you going? do you want me to come with-“

“No. I’ll only be a few seconds chiquita.”

“but.”

There were no ‘buts’ he had already shut your door before you could bombard him with questions. Instead your mind filled with them.

Did you push him away? Did you ask too much? say, too much?

Thats how you found yourself staring down at him in the middle of the night, worried. His puffer jacket stay thrown on your desk chair, he had not even thought about bringing it with him, knowing it was quite cold outside. Was he really that desperate to leave? to leave you?

You took a deep breath and decided it was about time you went down for him. You picked up your hoodie, or rather his hoodie; one you stole from him when you went over to his place, sliding into it like a huge blanket.

You put on your slides and grabbed his puffer jacket. Leaving your phone behind.

Pressing on the exit button of your apartment complex you stepped outside. Making sure to put a block on the door so it wouldn’t close, trapping you outside.

You walked towards him almost tip toeing so he couldn’t hear you. You came to a stop behind him watching the smoke blow away with the wind while he brought his arm down beside him, blunt in hand.

“I know your there ma.”

“…”

he laughed looking over his shoulder, you smiled handing him his puffer.

“Its so cold out here even this hoodie isn’t doing me justice, put your jacket on Milo.”

He took his jacket from your hands holding it to his side, seemingly unfazed by your words and the cold.

“Not as an accessory, miles. Put it on. Please.”

“You’re shivering ma, you look like you need it more than i do.”

And instead he places each of the arm holes over your shoulder. You gave up, there was no point in convincing him, and anyways you were still cold even with his giant hoodie on. Goosebumps laddered on your thighs because of your extra short- shorts.

“Hand me the blunt at least. You know i don’t like when you smoke.”

You held your hand out so he could replace the cold air blowing over your palm with the wrapped blunt.

“Yeah im sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

“Sorry doesn’t mean anything if your not gonna change.”

“I know ma. I promise I’ll try.”

“Good.” You stood in-front of him, squinting your eyes.

“Where yo glasses?”

“Inside.”

“Why didn’t you bring them?”

“Because i wasn’t thinking about that at the time. Which actually beings me to why i’m here. I’m worried about you, Miles. You won’t talk to me and if you let these feelings bottle up inside you it won’t…end well.”

“What your gonna break up with me if i dont talk?”

“No… i meant-“

“Then i don’t need to talk. As long as i have you with me theres no need to worry.”

Silence filled the atmosphere between you two again. Miles could sense your disappointment. He let a moment go by watching you huff as you gave up trying to figure out whats wrong with him. You started to make your way back to your apartment before he stopped you with his words.

“Its Ma.”

You spun yourself around to face his back.

“mhmmm.” you signalled for him to continue, walking towards him.

“I aint never seen her this down since dad passed. Her job is taking every single ounce of energy and happiness out of her, she leaves at like 6 in the morning to come home at God knows what time during the night and falls asleep on the couch. She doesn’t have time to even get anything to eat before she has to get up again the next morning to go to work. I can count on my fingers the amount of words she’s said to me this whole week. And last night…”

He came to an abrupt stop, bringing his pointer finger and thumb up to the inner part of his eyes trying to stop himself from crying in front of you.

He let his bottom lip fall letting out a sigh.

“Its okay Milo, you don’t have to finish the rest if you don’t want to. It’s just you and me bonito you can cry, déjalo salir.”

Still with your reassurance he refused to let you see him in this state, but was unable to control the single tear that threatened to drop.

You wiped both his eyes with the pads of your thumb until there was no tears left on his face or his waterline.

“Milo, you don’t have to act all big nd tuff around me. Everyone cries yknow?” you looked up at him while wrapping your arms around him.

“You are so good to me mi amor, ion deserve you.”

“Corny. But i know.” you smiled closing your eyes in his embrace.

he laughed breathily before giving you a kiss to your forehead.

He held your hand turning his head signaling for you both to go back inside.

“It’s low-key getting a bit cold now. I think the only thing keeping me warm was that weed.”

He looked at the now smushed up ball what remained from his blunt. Before eyeing you up and down.

“Cmon lets go, not even these two layers are keeping me warm.”

You pulled on his arm directing him back inside the apartment complex.

Once you got to your door you scrambled everywhere for your keys. Your short pockets, Jacket pockets, hoodie pockets, shit you even checked your afro. Before you thought back to when you grabbed Miles’s jacket and left the room while your keys sat still on your desk.

“Fuck. were locked out.”

“You for real?”

“Nah im just pretending i left the keys inside so we can stay out here in the cold.” you rolled your eyes, thinking maybe that wouldn’t he a bad idea as long as you were with Miles.

He leaned against the wall next to your apartment door pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso and laid your head on his chest, the beat of his heart ringing in your ears.

His lips hovered over your head before placing gentle kisses on your scalp.

“How many kisses are you gonna give me Milo.”

“You want me to stop?”

“No..” You smiled to yourself.

“Then stop complaining.”

Lifting his hand from your waist Miles cupped your chin lifting it up so that your eyes would lay on his. His pupil fell to your lips and then back to your eyes. You knew what was up.

“No.”

“Fuck you mean ‘No’.”

Miles mimicked you while you laughed at him, he looked at you unamused.

“Im joking Milo, kiss me.”

“No.”

“FUCK YOU MEAN NO?”

Now it was Miles’s turn to laugh, although you didn’t find it funny a smile still crept up on your face as you narrowed your eyes at him and pondered.

His laugh reminded you of him 2 years ago, when he had a softer personality, happily striding to you or anyone around him with a proud smile on his face, you missed it. And you know he did too.

You stood up still leaning on him but on the tip of your toes. You wrapped your hand around his nape and pulled him in for a well anticipated kiss.

Your lips locked with his, coming together like a jigsaw puzzle. For a moment you envisioned kissing Miles for the first time a year ago, how he didn’t see you coming when you pecked him on the lips. And how he pulled you back kissing you desperately with deep desire.

You lifted up your other arm and wrapped it around his neck while you played with the tip of his braids. Miles wondered his hands down from underneath your shirt to just under your ass. His fingers pushed gently against your skin shooting tingles throughout your body.

At this point your knees were getting weak as your head swayed against his, your mind went into a haze as the heat from the kiss sent you into a bliss. You felt Miles tug on your bottom lip granting himself access to your mouth.

Both your heads sped up the pace bobbing over eachother in sync, Miles feeling insatiable lifted you up to sit on his hips as he turned you both around. You now leaned back on the wall while he rubbed the bottom of your thighs still insatiably kissing you.

Your eyebrows furrowed with pleasure until he pulled away, you both stared into eachothers narrowed eyes breathing heavily.

“Fuck if we were inside right now, the things i’d do to you mami.”

“Break down the door if your that desperate.”

His head fell into your chest as he chuckled. You laid your head on top of his for a while before he let you down.

You both sat outside your apartment door, you on top of miles in a fetal position. Your coat draped over the two of you (barley) as he stroked your forehead with his thumb.

“Te quiero mucho ma, hasta la luna y de regreso.”

He whispered before placing another kiss on your forehead.

“hmm? whatchu say Milo?”

“Nada mami, cierra tus ojos.”

Extrs :

— Yeah your keys were inside, but so were your parents😭 so when your mom opened the door that morning to head of to work the both of you lay there snoring, with your arms wrapped around eachother.

— When you took Miles’s blunt you tried a little yourself 🤫

“Ma.. what are you-”

*heavy coughing*

“so im not allowed but you are-?”

“sh. i was just seeing what the hype was all about *cough* I-I feel like im dying”

Miles just laughs at you.

© All rights reserved to @444morales on tumblr.

Please do not copy, translate or repost my work on any other platforms.

[charmedbystars]

bored. (e-42 miles morales)

pairing: e-42 miles x reader

summary: you're bored and who else better than your pretty boyfriend to annoy?

content: no warnings!

a/n: this is just a super short blurb that popped in my brain. i was also listening to sneaky snitch while writing this so feel free to listen to that while reading this lol.

now, you weren’t a high-maintenance girlfriend who constantly had to be out. you were content with staying at home with miles, but it has been like this since summer started. occasionally, you guys would go out to restaurants or walk around the mall, but doing that every day took the fun out of it. 

so it was a normal summer evening. the air conditioning was blasting. the sun was setting. a random show was on the tv just for background noise. well, it was background noise for you, miles was actually paying attention. could you help it though? you’ve been pressed up against miles’ chest for 2 hours just binge-watching the same show. 

groaning out loud and shifting around on miles’ chest is what caught his attention. “you good mamas?” he asked. while shifting around, an idea suddenly sprouted in your head. leaning up to look down at miles, you smirked before going to a neutral expression quickly so he doesn’t get suspicious.

“hey miles… i need to ask you a serious question.”

“yeah was good? everything ‘kay?” he looked up at you in confusion with brows furrowed. 

“yeahh it’s just… do you love me?” 

“what are you even asking ma? ‘course i do.”

“are you sure?” 

“i can’t believe you’re asking me this,” he throws his head back.

“i’m being serious like do you love me three thousand percent?”

“what’s up with that number?”

“milesssss you’re not answeringgg that means you don’t love meeeee,” you whined. of course, you were joking but you wanted to have a little fun and what better way than annoying your boyfriend?

“you seriously cannot be doubting my love for you right now. look at where you are right now,” he gestured his arms around before going back to wrap them around you. “but if you’re asking, yes i love you very much. tu tienes mi corazon, lo sabes.”

“mmm okay miles. i’m taking your word.”

“girl you better be because i got you living.”

“yeah whatever,” you rolled your eyes before leaning back down to lie on his chest and like nothing ever happened, all of miles’ attention goes back to the tv screen in front of you. although the interaction got rid of your boredom a bit, all you wanted to do now was annoy your cute boyfriend. since you just ambushed him with questions, you waited a couple minutes before making your next move. 

what was your next move? poking miles’ face. your finger went up to poke his cheek once. getting no reaction from him, you poked his cheek again causing him to look down at you. 

“is there something you want?”

“no,” you simply grinned at him. aannddd attention right back to the screen. this time you went to boop his nose making a little “boop” sound with it too. 

“you think you’re so cute, huh?”

“well, as a matter a fact, i know i’m cute. no thinking required.” 

“baby, are you sure you don’t want something?”

“well, now that you ask again, yes i want something. i want your attention, i need you to do something. your sole reason for being my boyfriend is to entertain me.”

“oh so i’m just here to play around, huh?” he raised an eyebrow and you nodded with no hesitation. you should’ve thought of a better response than that because now you’re regretting everything when you feel yourself getting flipped around on the couch. miles on top of you now, legs holding you in place while his hands quickly went to your side tickling you. you squealed and laughed and kicked your legs around trying to get him to stop.

“miles stop! ple- AHAHA NO!” your pleading would not make miles stop at all. “miles i- i can’t breATHE,” you yelled and he stopped. you look up at him catching your breath and all he did was stare you down with a smirk on his pretty face. 

“you’re the worst person ever” 

“aww baby, don’t lie. i know you love me and i don’t even have to ask.”

[iisasxia]

I like to believe Bakugou lovesss black women.

I can’t explain it but he just does. Especially Afro-Latinas.

I think for him he loves their captivating features, their aura, and he loves learning and understanding the culture.

—

“These are called pastelitos, most people call them ‘empanadas’.”

His hands were a little sticky from the dough, he followed your instructions exactly as you showed him. Put the cheese/meat on the dough, fold it, and press it down with a fork on the edges.

“You’re doing such a good job.” You praise him and you can’t help but smile seeing his face turn a bit red.

Your mom walks by and looks at you two helping.

“Que bueno, el sabe lo que está haciendo.”

Bakugou looks over at you and whispers.

“What did she say?”

You softly smile as you continue cooking, now picking up the plate that is full of the ones ready to cook.

—

“She said ‘you know what you’re doing’.”

Needless to say he now holds that high above his head, not only was that his first time cooking a meal like that with you but your mother approved as well? Oh yeah he’s gonna be bragging about how he’s a much better cook than you for the rest of your lives.

(I’m Afro-Latina, wanted to write something about reader teaching Bakugou about her own experiences and culture, he’s so sweet too because he’s always willing to learn for her.)

[mywritingonlyfans]

One For The Road. // Mentor!Alex Turner X FreshSinger!Reader (Smut) Part 1

Prompt: (Age Gap Fic;Fem!Reader) Alex is on an extended hiatus from the band and finds himself wanting to start a studio to recruit new talent. One day, he hears a voice on the radio that captivates him, so he jots down the name and, with that voice stuck in his head, searches for it on Google. When he finds you, you both decide to work together for your growth, setting off a journey filled with new melodies, issues with paparazzi and online exposure, and Alex being completely smitten with his latest discovery and love.

Words: 9,5K

A/N: The fic was planned in three chapters: before the recognition (fame), during the recognition (fame), and after the recognition (fame).

Alex felt fulfilled, both physically and emotionally; he didn’t need any additional elements to complete his sense of satisfaction. During the band's extended break, due to various factors like other members' children and James admitting that a break would be beneficial, Alex found himself contemplating new possibilities. Unable to step away from music entirely, he set up a studio and handled other bureaucratic aspects for future artists. This was his way of giving back to an industry that had been so rewarding for him.

He didn’t know much about the artist he was suddenly into, only that sabe was a young girl with a captivating presence. Alex had heard your voice in the car before visiting Miles. It had a numbing effect on him, in a good way, leaving him sitting in the parked car after arriving, gazing out the window and absorbing every word you sang as if they were drops of water in the desert. It was strange, but it was exactly what he needed.

Your voice was raw with potential but still unrefined—you were not bad, just clearly new. The lyrics were sweet and nostalgic, evoking feelings that seemed foreign yet familiar. Alex found your work mature in a way he hadn’t been when he first started making music. He couldn’t picture your face, hair, or preferred style, but your voice lingered in his mind; the breaths, pauses, sometimes resembling soft and failed sighs, were compelling.

After the song ended, he stared at the radio display, waiting for your name to be announced. He quickly grabbed a notebook to jot down before he could forget.

Alex briefly mentioned you during dinner with Miles, running his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. His friend could tell that you had affected him in some way. "Just a girl, huh? How many times have you listened to her songs, Al?" Alex was usually romantic in his descriptions, this time he swore he had been succinct—though he felt he had failed. As the visit was coming to an end, all he could think about was your voice; he had to share you with someone else.

"Not many," he admitted honestly, though it wasn’t very convincing. Miles laughed, indicating he would listen later. His friend's recommendations were always reliable.

…

Finding you on the internet wasn’t easy. Alex had written down the wrong surname, which delayed his search longer than anticipated. You had no professional recordings, and later Alex discovered that the radio segment he had heard was an exclusive broadcast for new artists. All he found were amateur videos on YouTube of you singing in some pubs, with poor audio quality that didn’t do you justice. He listened to them repeatedly over the next few days.

The videos with better resolution were watched more often, and although Alex feared it might be due to your angelic face, he tried to avoid focusing on the fact that you were younger than him–perhaps more than he could point out. Nevertheless, as he closed his eyes before sleeping, he often imagined you from the video of your channel, wearing that summer wine dress with the straps slightly falling off. He imagined gently adjusting them with his finger, smoothing your hair while your calm eyes followed him. Your head falling affectionately into the caress of his palm and a brief wet kiss to your temple as your eyelashes flutter; not that he thought he would have such an effect on you.

It was indescribable how your voice occupied his mind more than anything else. He found himself humming snippets of your lyrics in the shower, while cooking, every end of the day. When he called Miles the next weeknd, his friend knew exactly what to expect.

…

You were delicate, and the words flowed from your lips effortlessly. Indeed, the cameras, the analog look, and the audio from the YouTube recordings didn’t do justice to what it was like to experience you live. There were few people, mostly around your age, though some appeared older with their doubtful expressions. It was a pleasant environment.

He watched you from a distance, neither too far nor too close. Wearing a white collared shirt, jeans, and a brown jacket, he kept his sunglasses on even at night to avoid being easily recognized. Occasionally, he slid the glasses down his nose to get a clearer view of you without the lenses.

You held the microphone gently, as if it weighed nothing, intertwining the cord between your fingers and taking small steps across the makeshift, tiny stage. Most people were distracted, but many took a moment to watch and listen to your music. Sometimes your voice faltered, and he noticed your disappointment, but you were so endearing.

You wore white tights and a black dress with a Peter Pan collar; Alex thought it suited you perfectly. He adjusted the edges of his shirt peeking out from under his jacket, a reflex of how your fingers nervously fidgeted with the fabric of your dress on stage. He smiled sweetly, as if hoping you could see and feel encouraged by it. You were doing well.

At the end, which was marked by silence following your thanks, he began clapping, soon joined by everyone else. You tried not to look around too much, not expecting the applause, and Alex was pleased to see you so happy.

You held a glass in your hand, chatting with the guitarist. Alex could easily see himself playing guitar alongside you in that dimly lit place filled with long, whispered conversations that created an intimate atmosphere. The guitarist nudged you, indicating Alex standing in front of you. When you turned, Alex felt his palms sweating and had to hide them in his pockets. You were even more beautiful up close; your posture wasn’t perfectly straight, but he noticed your charming walk and had to avoid smiling.

Alex felt more awkward than a teenager talking to girls, and he wasn’t proud of it. You greeted him with a warm smile, and before he could say anything, he knew you were as warm as you looked. “I enjoyed your performance up there. You sing really well, and the original lyrics are great. You’re very talented.” The compliment came out smoothly because he had practiced it many times. He felt his face flush, knowing he was fully red.

You bit your lips, offering a shy smile and resting your fingers right around the edges of your dress. Alex found this to be an adorable habit of yours. If he could, he would have held your hand and provided some distraction from whatever you were thinking. You thanked him, unsure of what to do or say but sincere nonetheless. When Alex offered a drink, he noticed your hesitation, but there wasn’t anything better for you to do than share a drink with someone who, for reasons you couldn’t quite place, seemed familiar. He was being nice.

“I don’t think anyone has ever come to see me sing so well-dressed,” you said, your eyes sparkling. Alex felt that in a few hours, you’d be more comfortable around him.

Noticing your assessment of his outfit, you could tell it wasn’t cheap; the fabric of his button-up shirt was well-tailored, the collar had a unique design, and the jacket was definitely leather. Not that you knew much about such things, but you didn’t see many like that.

Alex saw you enveloping your hands and didn’t think twice before taking off his jacket and draping it over you. Fingers touched your icy skin and he wished he had noticed sooner. You didn’t resist, your expression showed that you needed it; you merely nodded in thanks. “Don’t you think you deserve it?” Alex hadn’t intended it to sound flirtatious, but he realized it as soon as the words left his mouth. You shook your head, giving a half-hearted laugh.

He considered apologizing, but you continued, “I think it’s nice to think that someone would dress up to see me here, you know? To know that you’d come to see me sing and then anticipate it throughout the day, even considering what outfit would be most suitable or comfortable. It’s kind.” You were much more eloquent than he was, your words flowed naturally.

You sighed in relief, snuggling into the leather and tucking your hands into the long sleeves. Alex felt his chest warm up. You gestured animatedly while speaking, clearly excited, and probably didn’t even notice when your knees brushed together and stayed there in a pleasant touch that made him not want to move. “Well, if it helps, I heard you on the radio the other day and wanted to see you in person.” He breathed between his words, his voice deepening with the pauses.

You nodded, brushing off the compliment, not because you disliked it but because you didn’t want to deal with it. “I like your accent; it makes you sound older than you are.” Your shoulders brushed together, casually but comfortably, a result of your restlessness. There was a brief silence as you both listened to each other’s calm breathing amidst the background noise of drinks.

Maybe the contact was what mattered; Alex hadn’t planned this poorly. Despite his struggle with succinct communication, he explained the record label project, detailing the steps and what could be done if you wanted to pursue something more professional. At some point, you stopped listening to him, your eyes wandering over his dark hair cascading in beautiful waves, the furrow between the eyebrows, his perfectly shaped mouth, and the stubble that was starting to grow. He gestured less than you did, but his large yet delicate hands made him seem like a Christmas ornament, like men in '80s movies or even a younger Al Pacino.

“I’m listening, but I wouldn’t have the money for it; I can’t even afford a guitar. I play in pubs because I can use their instruments; they don’t pay well, and sometimes it’s just beer and food.” You spoke honestly, without bitterness about how it limited your dreams. You had the purity of someone who believed it was for you. Someone bumped into your chair, causing Alex to steady it, which brought your bodies closer together. He could now distinguish the exact color of your eyes and the scent of your hair. His mouth went dry. “That’s my point; you get paid so I can help you get heard and recognized for your work.”

…

"Did you set up the record label for the girl?" Miles carried a hint of truth, though he knew it was initially Alex’s idea, and you were the final touch that made it happen.

"It’s not like that, she’s really good. You’ll meet her." Alex’s voice carried warmth and anticipation; in a few months, you’d be fully immersed in this with him.

"And does she know what’s going on in your head? Like, the reason for your soft tone and silly grin when you mention her name? I might be wrong, but it doesn’t seem like you’re just thinking of her as a musician, Alex."

He shook his head, as if Miles could see him. "It’s nothing. I just want to help her with this. Besides, I’m not at that stage; we don’t fit in the same place." The idea of putting all that into words hurt a little.

The conversation continued, as if that settled the matter, both on the call and in real life. But Miles’s final words were, "Alex, I’m sure this will hurt her more than it will hurt you; you don't deal well with reason, your feelings will get in the way.”

And though it stung, it might be true—something to consider with concern. But would it really be so bad to spend all that time with you?

…

You learned who he was and thought it might be a scam, but a simple Google search left you stunned. You clearly knew the band, just not his exact current appearance; it certainly wasn’t like in the “Cornerstone” video, but the more recent ones fit the style of a dad with a six-year-old daughter, which was pleasant. Your friends were happy for you, even if they were as incredulous as you.

“It’s quite big; will more people be coming here?” Your voice echoed through the studio, your fingertips freezing. You’d arrived a few weeks ago and had some singing lessons Alex had arranged with another professional, but from then on, you feared he would be your sole tutor.

“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people.” You nodded, hands in the pockets of your dress. LA was hot, he was killing you with that air conditioning. He had shown you every corner, you felt quite comfortable; the place had guitars on the wall, basses, and a drum set from that inaccessible brand. You stood in front of him, looking like a lost child, genuinely waiting for what to do next. It took him a moment, but he understood.

“Okay, I didn’t plan this out too well,” he laughed softly. He mentioned having read the songs you sent, even though he had heard them before, now he knew the exact lyrics. “Is it okay if I use the equipment?” Your question was followed by the tips of your fingers touching one of the microphones and holding the headphones, waiting for his response.

“Feel free to use whatever you want, little one.” Your cheeks were warm, making you bite the bottom of them. You looked confused at the buttons; they were just buttons with no informative labels. Alex had forgotten that this was familiar only to him. “Sure, it’s a good idea to get you familiar with everything first, then we can see what to do.” It sounded like a good idea.

The time passed quickly; what took hours, with Alex, seemed like minutes. Sometimes silence would fall over you both, but it was so comfortable. He had a pleasant voice, explaining things as if they weren’t intuitive, and you could visualize them. You liked it. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, falling into a cute fringe over his eyes, which shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a suit and a button-up shirt, making no sense given the amount of fabric he was wearing in the LA sun.

“It’s pretty heavy, Turner,” he had given you a red guitar with white detailing, the side bearing his last name. It had clearly been through some battles but was beautiful. Alex found your pronunciation of the “r” endearing, rolled on your tongue and lingering. No one called him that around; it could be your thing. The guitars you had played were lighter, less durable.

“You can play if you want. You can also make it your own; it’s a good idea to get used to a specific one for now.” You listened, wondering why you wanted him to call you “little one” again. You held the strap, looking at the floor. “I don’t know how to play,” your voice was weak, your fingers pressing the strings without making any sound. He nodded, understanding you.

“What don’t you know, little one?” His face was calm, as if it didn’t cross his mind that you might be a fraud. His body was positioned behind yours, and you felt your heart racing; you were sure he could hear it. He placed his hand on the neck of the guitar, adjusting some strings.

What happened was: you would hum melodies, your friends would map out the notes, next you had them with you.

“I only remember my songs, which are few. I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” You didn’t like how that sounded. You stepped back without thinking, bumping into Alex’s firm chest. He held your waist, noticing your nervousness. You still smelled the same as before.

“There’s nothing wrong with that; no one is born knowing. I learned a lot from the first album ‘til now; we can work on that if you want.” You heard the guttural sound he made when speaking slowly in your ear, dangerously close. “Do you want to try something?” he asked, a little before plucking a small segment of one of your songs. Alex had heard it so much that he had memorized the chords. You found it strange but ignored it; controlling your breathing was more complicated.

“I don’t know, Turner,” he laughed, the pleasant nasal sound close, with his blazer rubbing against your bare arms. He took your hands in his, guiding your fingers as he wanted, explaining each string press and brief sound. It took some time, and due to your anxiety, it seemed to take longer than usual.

“It doesn’t seem to sound very good,” you impulsively turned your face to look at him. His eyes, which had been on your hands, moved to your face, and it was closer than you had experienced before. “But it will, you know?” He smiled, his slightly crooked lower teeth noticeable to you, as well as the light beard scars and age lines around his eyes. God, he was so beautiful.

“You’re doing well, lil’ one; you just need to relax and be more patient.” You felt your fingers ache, pulling your hands slightly away from Alex’s. “You trust me a lot.” He noticed the superficial cut, the tips of your fingers bruised a bit, pretty normal, and you seemed quite calm about it. “Shouldn’t you? Trust yourself? I haven’t seen anything in you so far that doesn’t show how good you are at what you do...” The sentence was lost, somewhat unformed, but you wished he would talk about you like that more often. He took your finger, drying it with the edge of his shirt, which had become slightly reddened, and pressed until it stopped. It was hard not to just look at him. Your cold hands made Alex make a mental note that you weren’t a big fan of the air conditioning or that maybe your clothes were too short and thin.

…

On the same night, before heading back to the hotel, Alex suggested you two could go out to eat together as a way to spend more time talking. Since you’d spent hours at the studio and he hadn’t thought to offer you food or water, he chose a more relaxed place, reminiscent of the pubs where he knew you performed—live music and cozy lighting.

Upon arrival, you felt the chill against your arms. Alex laughed. You hadn’t seen him take off his blazer, but you noticed his attentive gaze as he draped it over your shoulders. It was a comforting relief. “I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places ‘ere are air-conditioned; you’ll end up feeling cold,” he said. You didn’t respond, only pondering whether Alex would always have a jacket or blazer for you if you never wore one. You liked his scent on you and the respectful way he looked at you, you hated that your thoughts were not as innocent.

As you sat across from him, there was little distraction, and you knew it would be a challenging time—more accurately, a journey to be honest, regardless of what happened next. He had loosened more buttons due to the heat. The collar was pressed against his rosy skin, neck chain attached to his sweat, and his eyes were on you, making your stomach flutter. Your foot brushed against his calf under the table, you couldn’t look at him. He smiled pleasantly as usual, the distinctive nasal sound of his laugh remaining soothing, despite the feelings he stirred in you. Your foot found comfort there, resting against him; neither of you moved.

“It smells nice; what is it?” he asked before you put away your pink tube of moisturizer.

“It’s peach,” you replied, sounding a bit excited. You wanted to talk but felt that besides your music, you might not be interesting to him, even though you felt there was something desirable in that; even if you didn't see yourself that way.

“The scent is great; it makes me less tense, Turner,” you said. You took his hand in yours. They were larger and calloused—something your fingers should be. You applied a drop of cream, massaging his hand with focus on each callus and prominent vein.

The sensation was light for him (even for you); your nails brushed against his wrist with a pleasant tickle. Taking your time, you smoothed out the creases in his poorly folded shirt, rebuttoned it, and adjusted the fold to what Alex would consider the perfect height. Your touch was gentle, and there you were, right in front of him, with your shoulders covered by his blazer. He noticed the strap of your dress was a little crooked, but you were nestled in something warm. Alex cherished everything about that realistic snapshot.

When you finished, you noticed his attention was on your face. You smiled slightly, as did he. You were in complete silence, yet every minute counted.

The food arrived shortly, and you didn’t need to question it. He simply whispered a “thank you, little one” to you as you curled into his blazer a bit more. He was hoping it would carry your scent by the end of the night.

The atmosphere remained the same—you both enjoyed each other's company, evident in the unspoken comfort between you. The air felt light in your lungs, yet breathing was easy and relaxed. Alex wasn't particularly hungry, but seeing your bright eyes and inevitable smile with every bite you took, he couldn't help savoring his food as well. You made him feel good; he realized just how true that was.

He gently brushed the corner of your mouth with his clean thumb, wiping away a small smudge. You followed his movement intently, reflexively cleaning the spot afterward. For a brief moment, Alex considered bringing his thumb to his lips out of instinct, but quickly caught himself, realizing the weight of the gesture, and instead wiped it off with a napkin. He thought about apologizing, but feared it would make things awkward.

However, you continued to look at him, your face full of color, the atmosphere just as comfortable and inviting as before. It wasn't a mistake for you; you liked the tingling sensation his touch left on your skin.

…

The weeks passed effortlessly; neither of you avoided the other. Occasionally, you both made your way down from your rooms together for dinner at the hotel restaurant or to have a drink. Conversations came easily. At first, Alex felt uneasy about how you didn’t smoke during routine activities, which made him uncomfortable for not being able to cut back on the habit himself. However, over time, he grew used to it and eventually stopped smoking around you, finding that he missed it less.

Sometimes, nights at the studio would deliberately stretch late, with Alex fine-tuning guitars that didn’t really need it or you attempting to replicate familiar songs on the drums, under the guise of practice. The truth was, even though you both knew you didn’t truly need each other, you still made an effort to be close to one another, whether in quiet moments or during busier times.

"Y’know, oldie. We moved it all online…” You mentioned it when you opened your eyes and noticed Alex annoyed by the droplets from his hair dripping onto his newspaper.

You couldn't pinpoint where the idea came from, but you understood his priority in not overwhelming you—imagining how a poor work dynamic could fall into the hands of bad journalists. In the end, that led you both to the beach, enjoying the refreshing breeze that made the sun less intense.

Your comment drove him to give up on the newspaper and just look at you. He couldn't look at you casually or quickly, he was getting used to that. Behind his sunglasses and cap, he felt like he was taking advantage by noticing the thin strap of your bikini and the ties and lace that drove him to think of other pieces. He took a deep breath, sinking into the lounge chair, like in romantic comedies that end well. You brushed your knee against his, drawing his attention back to you (yes, you were sharing the only remaining chair meant for couples—neither of you even knew such a thing existed).

Alex quickly realized he was blushing, feeling the heat in his cheeks when he got you had noticed him staring at you. "Do you need sunscreen? I didn't see you apply any yet," you asked, getting ready for your second layer, while Alex hadn’t put on any. "How disgraceful, Turner. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your amusement.

His hair was tousled by the wind. His face had a radiant glow at you. You put some of it in his hand, and he began to apply it to his sun-kissed cheeks and nose, a bit of it smudging into his hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, his clumsy hands more likely to smear than spread the lotion properly. "Alright, Tur, let me handle this." You moved closer, your cool fingertips touching his skin and discarding the sunglasses. He caught the scent of peach as it drifted on the breeze, smiling softly as you smiled at him. Your gentle touch grazed his cheeks, finding comfort in the rough texture of his beard, which made you scrunch your nose in a playful smile that turned into a quiet laugh. Letting himself relax, Alex closed his eyes as you smoothed the excess lotion onto his neck. He wished he didn’t enjoy that closeness, but he did, and he had no intention of denying it.

You cleaned the stray strands of hair and lightly traced your thumb up the bridge of his nose, pausing briefly between his eyebrows. Alex sighed in contentment, his lips parting slightly, you felt even more at ease. Before he could open his eyes, you stepped back, slathering more sunscreen into your hands, then pressed your palms against his soft shoulders and just above his chest. He gave you a funny look, but before anything else could happen, you pulled away. "Rub it in," you instructed, noting his slight confusion. "And turn around. I'm going to apply it on your back." Touching his warm, velvety skin felt therapeutic. He shared that same sentiment. Was this how cats felt when they kneaded with their paws? It was just as comforting.

Alex felt the same when his fingers touched your back in return. The silence weighed on him, with only the pulsing of his veins echoing in his ears. Yet, you smiled peacefully, eyes closed and lower lip caught between your teeth as you lay on your stomach. He massaged your skin with sunscreen, convinced that this was a laborious task. Your muscles relaxed under his touch, and he noticed a foolish smile creeping onto his lips.

He gently moved the delicate strap of your bikini aside, making sure to cover every inch, no matter how thin the material was. His palm brushed your hair away from the nape of your neck, and for a long moment, he imagined kissing your sensitive skin, hearing your sighs at a playful bite, letting out the repetitive thoughts that were always about you stuck in his mind. He had memorized your scent, longed to immerse himself in you until your peaches became his, something only he could experience–no one else, not even the stupid boys your age (especially them). He followed the same ritual on your neck, sighing to himself as he acknowledged how addictive your skin was there; you were highly addicted.

"Wait a minute," you murmured, your words drawn out and languid, almost like failed moans that would fade into silence. Your delicate fingers fumbled with his as you pulled the bikini string down, revealing more of your skin, though not in an obscene way. Even though his gaze was heavy in a way that it wasn't entirely clear. Soon, the piece was no longer there, but the view was limited by the way you were lying.

Understanding his place, he lightly rubbed sunscreen over the exposed area, subtly moving down your waist and barely grazing your hips. He felt as if he were touching porcelain, afraid that any poorly thought-out movement might shatter you. He gave your flesh a final gentle squeeze, and your abdomen contracted at the loss, accompanied by a soft murmur. Returning to his position, Alex chuckled to himself as he noticed how you kept your head closer to the towel you used as a pillow, your body not moving a single millimeter. It was then that he realized the process had taken longer than expected, you had fallen asleep.

He pulled his cap down over his face, a bit embarrassed, even though you couldn't see him. Adjusting his sunglasses back in place, he quietly watched you, taking in your calm breathing and relaxed posture. He took his own shirt, wrapping it over you, deciding that you had been in the sun long enough. He didn't touch you, knowing you were still asleep, but couldn't resist briefly brushing his fingertips against his lips and gently moving the strands of hair that covered your face. His gaze sharpened instinctively, and while he knew how to handle it if he were alone, you didn't deserve that side of his life.

It was quick—just a fleeting moment, a feeling of being watched, though he didn't hear any cameras or whispers. He didn't want to risk dismissing the thought, even if he couldn't see anyone nearby. Slowly, yet without hesitation, he gently called your name, softly stroking your arm. You responded by murmuring his name, manipulating a warm and soft sound, making him wonder if you were conscious of his presence or merely dreaming—of him. It took a while, but Alex remained patient until your eyes opened, startled. He then placed the cap on your head, carefully cradling you in his arms, being cautious not to disorient you further as he buttoned his shirt on you, doing so with as little awkwardness as possible. Despite touching your skin, he never once looked anywhere but your face, waiting for your arms to slip into the sleeves until you looked somewhat presentable.

"We're going to walk to the car, alright? It'll be quick," he said, his voice concerned, firm, and reassuring. He knew what he was doing, hoping to minimize the damage. You simply nodded, resting your tired cheek on his shoulder, and he chuckled softly. "Can you put on my sunglasses, please, little one?" You gave a sweet smile, making him internally berate himself for putting you in this situation. He placed the sunglasses on you, guiding your hands with his own, and kept you close. "Shall we? It'll be quick, promise and you can sleep on the way to the hotel, huh?" You appreciated his calm demeanor, respecting your groggy mood after just waking up.

He grabbed your bag, abandoning any attempt to save the newspaper, and drove his hand on the small of your back. Leaning into him for comfort, you felt him hold you tighter. Instinctively, you nuzzled your face into his chest, only to hear him say, "Okay, just don't get too close to her, alright?" His heart pounded against your ear, and you heard the sound of camera clicks. You didn't want to, nor could you, open your eyes. You couldn't make sense of the noise; the person continued taking photos, asking questions, and you couldn't tell if there was more than one of them.

Alex opened the car door, firmly guiding you until you were seated inside. He gently stroked your hair, noticing how visibly shaken you were. He quickly kissed your forehead. It was a brief, hurried gesture, one you wished you had more time to savor. You held onto his arm, unable to speak. "I'll close the door and come around; I'll be right beside you, and we'll head to the hotel, okay?" He was frustrated, angry, but it wasn't directed at you; he didn't want you to see these feelings of his. He should have been more careful, knowing that this was possible even with the band being on a break, but he had been careless.

Once inside the car, with the windows tinted completely black, ensuring no one could see in, he reached for your hand as he started the engine, holding it tightly as you looked at him, dazed, avoiding looking outside. "Does this happen often?" you asked, your voice small. His throat tightened with an irrepressible knot; he hadn’t considered how foreign all this was to you.

…

Alex’s head throbbed, the furrow between his eyebrows deep with tension. You sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between your thighs, eyes filled with unshed tears as you looked at him. He had used his connections, calling to inform them of the situation and to request the removal of any photos of you from gossip sites if they had already been posted. He was told on the phone that it would be handled, which confirmed that the images had likely been uploaded.

Alex chose to make the call in the hallway, asking you to go ahead to the room, not wanting you to hear and worry more than you might have already. But as soon as he entered, it was clear you had seen something. Your fingers played with the hem of his shirt, lost in thought, and guilt washed over him.

"I can listen to you, pretty one," he said, his voice soft, showing a rare vulnerability as he assured you that he was there with you. He wanted to hear you out, to relieve any burden weighing on your shoulders.

"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you replied, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Alex waited, kneeling in front of you between your legs, his fingers lightly brushing your skin. He didn’t know exactly what to do, but hoped he could offer some comfort. The touch didn’t feel like a mistake—it was a natural act of reassurance, though the proximity made him feel conflicted. Yet, considering the situation, it seemed right.

"I’m really sorry, truly. It was careless of me," he apologized, his tone sincere. You shook your head, gently cupping his face in your hands, pushing his hair back. His warm, caramel eyes focused on you, filled with concern as you teetered on the edge of tears, a feeling he feared he didn’t fully understand.

"Tur, I might sound stupid, but—" You hesitated, then he responded with his usual tenderness, drawing you closer. Your legs wrapped around him, your arms holding him tight. He stroked your hair, helping you find comfort against him. The towel draped over his shoulders—since he had given you his shirt and didn't feel like walking around the hotel shirtless—slipped to the floor, and having his warmth was enough for you.

"If they like the album, which I really hope they do, and with all the pre-album promotion as an artist... I don’t want to sound ungrateful, huh, like, this whole journey with you has been amazing, but is it going to be normal to have so many people talking ‘bout me? Pictures of me without my consent? And comments about my appearance?" You couldn’t look at him, which made it easier for you to speak coherently without feeling embarrassed about opening up.

It was so much to process, and Alex hadn’t considered it from that angle. After all, he was the one who had brought you into this situation, both in the moment and for the long haul. You were young, and he didn’t want you to go through what he had at your age. He could have prevented this, but now you were caught up in it.

He kissed your forehead, then your eyelids, realizing just how intimately right—and wrong—this all felt. It was inevitable, and it shouldn’t have been. He pulled back slightly, only to give in when you tightened your hold, snuggling closer. You took his hand and placed it on your waist, your way of asking him for it to take longer, seeking more of his embrace. He chuckled softly, needing it just as much.

There wasn’t much to say. "I think you know the answer, little one. I wish it wasn’t like this either. I’m sorry for introducin’ you to this.”

Alex’s hands slid up and down your back, gripping the fabric and holding you tightly against him. Your sigh was one of relief, drawn out, so sweet. He cupped your chin, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your cheeks were damp, and he offered a small, uncomfortable smile.

“It’s okay,” you said weakly, trying to sound more composed than you felt. “It’s not your fault, Turner. I don’t think that, and I don’t regret being here with you. I’m just scared of everything that’s going to come with this, especially since I never really thought about it before.” Your words seemed distant, but even in your emotional state, you were eloquent.

Alex didn’t know exactly what to expect either; things had changed since 2008. He remembered the Humbug era being the worst, with all the attention from MTV. His tongue rested on the roof of his mouth as your fingers found a home at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs, much like you do with the hem of your shirt when you’re anxious. It soothed you. Your eyes lowered to his chest, and you realized it was the first time you’d hugged him this longer, and he was shirtless. You liked everything about it—the warmth and the view you had.

He pulled the collar of your shirt toward him, bringing your face closer until his tiny beard tickled your skin. You looked at him, and he didn’t even try to hide the fact that he was staring right into your soul. You were beautiful with your red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding what you were going through, he got you whispering amidst the chaos of finding the right words, “I can’t mess this up, Tur.”

He focused on your words, though he wanted to pull you into him even more, but he resisted, waiting for you to continue. “I want this too, I just don’t want you to think less of me, okay?” Your eyes welled up again, and as soon as you tried to lower your head, he gently lifted it back up, fully aware of what you were trying to convey. “I don’t want you to think I’m like this just because I’m interested in you. I don’t want you to see me as…” You paused, struggling with the words. He simply rested his forehead against yours, holding your face gently in his hands.

“I don’t think anything bad ‘bout you, lil’ one. I’ve never thought that way, and these are just your worries, you got me? Nothing changes the fact that I think you’re talented and competent, huh? That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don’t have to be afraid of that.” He was firm, his voice louder than usual. You took in every word, noting the roughness of his tone and the space between his lack of manners with sentences. He swallowed hard, his mouth slightly open, and you appreciated how patient he was with you, how well he seemed to understand that you needed this moment. Your fingers tightened on his, and then your lips met his. It was slow, and though you felt like you lacked experience, it was warm. He pulled you closer, every inch of you molding to him.

You started to pull away, embarrassed, feeling like maybe this wasn’t meant for you, but as soon as your lips began to leave his, he tugged your collar, bringing you back for a more urgent kiss, making it clear he had been waiting for this for a long time. You leaned back slightly, but he held you firmly, sensing how your body was softening against him. He chuckled into the kiss, and you felt his velvety tongue against yours, slowly being enveloped by wet, lingering kisses. The taste was salty from tears and the sea, you laughed at the thought of him being seasoned.

You brushed his fringe away, noticing how his cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen. You wanted more. You realized your brain hadn’t fully registered what it felt like to have his beard brushing against your face.

“Was it bad?” you asked, your voice barely audible. You couldn’t help but think about how Alex had been with many other women, while you could count on one hand the people you’d kissed in your life.

“Do you talk when you’re nervous?” His warm breath brushed against your skin, close enough to be unsettling. Before you could answer, he planted soft kisses on your lips, still making a slight sound and lingering just a bit. He tasted of mint, not quite of cigarettes. The tip of his nose grazed yours, and the subtle stubble on his face slid pleasantly against your cheek. When he pulled back, your natural reaction was to lean forward for more, which he didn’t resist, a playful smile on his lips as he let you set the pace. Your fingers seemed made for his hair, and Alex was sure of it. By the end, you were breathless, though he wasn’t quite as much.

“Okay, I need to breathe...through my nose while doing this.” He chuckled, pulling you close for a hug. You felt at ease with him, talking out of nerves, but it was clear it didn’t bother you. He liked that. “It’s not bad at all. It’s actually wonderful, pet.” He touched your nose and cheeks, his fingers tracing every feature, wanting to soak in each detail of you. “You’re beautiful,” he said. You nodded. He struggled to figure out if the way your eyes fluttered when he spoke to you like that was because of his voice or his compliments, yet he was determined to keep drawing those reactions from you.

He ran his calloused fingers up your thigh, stopping at your hips, squeezing them hard. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him more of a view. The bottom of your bikini was tight, very tight, leaving a mark on your skin and he ran his fingertips over the spot. You looked at him, thinking about how no one had ever looked at you like that; the mix of desire and actually seeing you as something more than that. You had written about it before, but never experienced it, and so you wondered about the possibility of Alex acting like that because he knew your writing. However, you didn't want to think badly of him, you wanted to enjoy it.

His gaze rose to meet yours, his tongue moistening his lips and the crease between his eyebrows deepening, was it fair that that alone made you wet? He didn't need to say anything, you confirmed what he wanted.

The attention lingered on your face, your heart racing at the serenity of how he undid the ties, getting rid of the piece. You couldn't move, taken by how delicate he was and his eyes on you didn't do the same, even though he didn't fail to contemplate you.

“Turner,” it was like a sob, a tiny sharp. His fingers touched your center, sighing as a way of savoring the moment, then he sank a little deeper, smearing his fingers and spreading them from your entrance to your clit to improve the sensation.

“It's all right, princess, I'm right ‘ere. I've got you, but we've got all the time in the world, so let's be patient, you're with me?" Each word was breathy and soft, difficult for you to string together, but you still repeated his last name in a pleading whisper.

He brushed two of his fingers against you, one of your legs lifting and bending at the knees, he laughed at your reactions but it was adorable, even though he was nothing much but his dark orbs. Respecting your body, he plunged his fingers deeper, sliding in easily. Your body gave in, your hands supporting you back and your moans getting hotter, you felt tighter but it still felt good.

"Relax, lil’ one. You can lie down, everything's fine, huh? You can just relax, no thoughts." His accent, full of patience, so familiar yet made you swallow hard. Alex’s fingers were damp, all along their length, carrying that blissful energy that comes with youth. Certainly, it could be said that you were not so used to that, the gap between doing something and thinking about it was great, given your state you had fantasized about it a few times; maybe you expected something he couldn't give you, but he was there for you.

He felt like an exception, he wasn't so young anymore, but he was acting like one. His fingers slid, you swallowed them completely, until your legs trembled a bit and he pulled back, only to repeat it all over again. He was touching you, getting to know you, and thinking about how he would be tasting your juices on his tongue in a few seconds, getting you ready to have him inside of you without any concern... He throbbed with each glimpse.

He couldn't deny that he had fantasized about you too, how he wanted to corrupt you while you were wearing your usual spaghetti strap dresses, hike them up to your waist and just pull down his pants to take you in the studio, have your voice fade away while instruments were thrown to the floor. He would get heavy, swollen with sensitivity in his underwear when he thought about you from time to time, refusing to do anything that bordered on disrespect, and even if he failed, he followed a ritual in his light groping, looking for relief, without letting himself get there as punishment. He never felt right thinking about you that way, but it seemed like a plausible moment to let himself be reminded of it.

Your eyes were closed, your face to the ceiling, your head pressed into the mattress in agony. You weren't expecting it, but your muscles clenched tighter into the sheets, this was new; you knew what it was, it just had never been like this. There were brief kisses on your wetness, noisy and messy, his hair brushed against your thigh and his hands were firmly on you. You had never seen yourself without thinking about anything, not literally, but your senses only hovered over how to be good for Turner so he could make you feel great.

For Alex, it was better than he remembered imagining. It was hard to breathe when all he could do was focus on keeping going, listening to your sweet whimpers for more. The vivid scent of peach filled his senses, your taste taking over his consciousness, everything felt so good.

He sank his tongue, contracting it hard so that it dissolved inside you and felt in honor how you dripped down the sides of his mouth. He held the edges of your shirt tightly, pushing you closer to him, his nose brushing against your clit while his whole face rubbed all over your folds with desire. Your fingers tightened in his hair, gripping hard as you called out his name, the words barely coherent. You focused on him with a dazed expression, your gaze hazy and unfocused. His face was serene, eyes closed in deep enjoyment, completely immersed in your taste. You shifted a little, although he soon forced you against the mattress so you wouldn't do that, wanting to feel his beard hurt your skin. In fact, boys your age, or at least your experiences, did that very quickly, as an obligation. Alex was not a boy.

"You're so addictive," your throat was dry. Alex hadn't even done half of what he had in mind with you; and you certainly couldn't handle it.

He turned his face away due to your trembling knees, holding your gaze to his. He wanted you to get there, but in another way. Still, he watched you as he pressed only the tips of his fingers on your clit, without movements other than those of your hips. “So smart and charming, is there anything you can't do?” You pulsed, electric current going through your entire body.

You didn't know what to do, your cheeks were burning and you could only moisten your lips, wanting the agonizing knot to disappear.

“Turner,” he laughed, the same nasal sound you loved. It was like a mantra, the repetition of the drawn-out last name coming out of you and the cocky laugh. “Please, I need it, I need you, Tur.”

He nodded, stiff and sore in his shorts, then stood up and pulled them off. He didn’t look in a hurry to you, it gave you a headache, but he was nice to look at; his pale skin, his slim waist, his shoulders red from your scratches and his reddened length. He was hot and well-endowed, good enough to make your mouth water.

"Have you done this before?" His friendly tone made you hate your thoughts, and also question if you actually had. His cheeks were flushed, as were his lips, and he swallowed hard while looking at you. You felt a bit embarrassed. "It's okay if you haven't, princess." You smiled softly, shaking your head. "A few times, but it was never good. But this time, it is." Alex understood; he didn't judge you and never would. He ran his hand through your hair, brushing it away from your face, then gently tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it slightly away from your skin. "Are your songs not based on your experiences?" You feared he might think that was a bad thing, but his voice didn't carry any judgment. "No..." You sighed, content with his touch and his body pressed to yours. "I don't think I've ever truly experienced love, at least not directly. But I like writing about how I hope it will be." His eyes were a bit misty, and he nodded. He found that meaning beautiful; it was a perspective he hadn't considered before. He didn't feel so distant from that, since he wrote about things he'd witnessed. "It's beautiful. You do it really well.”

He opened the buttons, one by one, taking his time. He revealed your body to him little by little, admiring your collarbone, the curve of your breasts and stomach. His lips touched every nuance, leaving a wet trail and a bite on the flesh below your perky nipple. You writhed with a shrill noise, your legs clinging to him, ready to feel him as he brushed against your thigh. Alex also moaned every now and then, much more restrained and full-bodied, so hoarse.

He held your face to him, preventing you from turning away. The weight of his body felt good, everything about Alex felt like being enveloped in calm; even though you didn't expect calm at that moment. He opened his mouth, perhaps as thirsty as you were, his tongue on the roof of his mouth, staring at you. Slow and precise, you had your muscles soften as he got warm and tight inside you. You swallowed greedily, wet as never before, taking every inch of him.

“Good pet, good girl.” You held onto him tighter, your eyes watering. He held your head, snuggling you close to him. "You're doing great, you're such a good girl, right? Focus on how I'm inside you, filling you to the brim, can you feel me, lil’ one?” He was hoarser, unavoidable not to pay attention. His voice really calmed you down, making it work, your legs rested slowly and you noticed he was more comfortable in you; fitting better.

He held your hand on top of your head, intertwining your fingers, letting you squeeze tightly. Your body rocked on the bed with the rhythm of his hips, the movement was slow, he let his entire length come out of you like that and then pressed harder so you could accommodate him all the way into your lower tummy. It was good, warm, it made you think of more and more until you felt your belly tingle. Alex had a prominent crease, his pink lips parted and he gasped along with you every time your bones collided. Unable to hold back, he sped up, letting you whisper a painful, "Thank you," which made him release your hand, gripping your wrist violently as his forehead fell onto your shoulder. You stained the back of his neck with bruises, wanting your fist to come out the same way.

Your hot breath came in short gasps, you tried to be coherent in shyly mumbling that he could come inside you; wanting to have him fill you to the last drop until you were exhausted. Which wouldn't be a problem, you took your precautions up to date.

The intensity of his body on yours was growing, similar to the arrival of guitar solos in a chorus; you had to close your eyes, really paying attention to how your walls squeezed him inside you. Your firm thighs around him, added to the strength with which he thrusted you, caused friction on your clit and you were becoming aware of your limits. You felt Alex hug you again, delicate arms around you, wetting your shirt in soft moans as he filled you warmly. The sensation, the noise, everything connected made you relieve yourself too, in a relaxation of having both liquids mixing, ready to run out of you. He slowed down, keeping the same ritual, making you feel your thighs sticky until he realized you were getting too sensitive with tears filling your pretty eyes, and it was better to stop.

There was the familiar, comfortable silence that always settled between you two, both of you immersed in each other's presence. The embrace was gentle yet firm. He was comfy, still inside you, pulsing a bit, but good. His hand moved in meaningful circles on your back, and you mirrored the motion on his arm. His hair was a mess, and you imagined yours probably was too. His swollen lips drew in air as before, making you contemplate the way his tongue rested against the roof of his mouth.

"Can you lick me, Tur?" You asked comfortably given the situation, feeling good all over his touch.

He ran his hand over your chin, looking at you, not finding it bad. You hesitated when you asked, but it seemed inevitable. He moistened his lips, touching the tip of his tongue to your mouth, right on the lower one, holding your face firmly and doing what you said. The velvety, wet touch ran down your lip and into your mouth, which made you smile slightly, holding him for a kiss. It was good, you had imagined that. He sucked your lip to himself, in a somewhat messy act of saliva, and you wanted to do it more often.

“You good?” It was a genuine intimacy, right after a few minutes of nothing but the pure sound of his heartbeat echoing in your ear. You couldn’t help but wonder if this would affect how professional he thought you were—after all, he was your mentor—but you didn’t want to bring that up now. Similarly, feeling the way his shirt clung to your body, brushing against his skin and stealing your scent, he wondered the same thing, afraid you might truly believe you weren’t talented enough due to the internet and that this had only made things worse in your mind. Yet, he didn’t know what to say; the silence felt safe. "I’m okay, Tur. Tired, but I don’t want to think about songs, albums, or what we’ll do in an hour right now." You nestled closer to him, kissing his cheek softly, then his neck. Your voice was laced with tears, and he wasn’t sure if it was about what happened minutes ago or the issue with the paparazzi, but he understood that you were vulnerable. He felt guilty, still processing everything. "I’m not going to leave you, little one. I’ll be ‘ere, to deal with this and remind you how good you are." He whispered into your hair that smelled of peaches. You believed him, and he made you see a future in all of this.

You could have him on the cover of your album.

...

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