#this was gross I’m never doing this again anyway

[racingrich]

too many oranges 🏁 op81

summary: he’s in the centre of everyone’s universe, they drifts outside his orbit. he loves it. what better way to catch the farmer’s attention than with fruit?

reader is a leclerc sibling who lives on a farm a few hours drive from monaco on the italian coast i’m jealous bc that’s my dream

hi i don’t know what this is but i had the writing itch. i hope you enjoy this smau hybrid! might write more for the f1 fandom bc i’m possessed by my love for these weird guys who drive little cars in circles! no editor we die like champions, anyway i hope you enjoy! i’m so nervous to post this i hope my writing isn’t shit

this is also technically gn reader bc i can’t write anything else! the photos are just pose references and aren’t indicative of reader’s appearance!

⋆.⋆✴︎˚｡ 🧡 ₊˚✧

lovelyleclerc seriously who tf eats this many oranges 😭

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, yourbff, and 1.93k others

view 104 comments …

charles_leclerc 💬 send me some 🙏

⤷ lovelyleclerc i guess i can share :(

⤷ charles_leclerc you guess?? what happened to ��you’re my favourite, charlie”

⤷ lovelyleclerc a moment of weakness, won’t happen again 🙂‍↕️

yourbff 💬 cottagecore eats you for breakfast

⤷ lovelyleclerc delicious truly

yourbff 💬 truly an icon 😍

yourbff 💬 may those oranges find you someone to put up with ur bs 🙏

⤷ lovelyleclerc choke 🫶🏻

lovelyleclerc maybe i just don’t leave 🧡

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, georgerussell63, and 1.039k others

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charles_leclerc 💬 you promised you would watch me race!!

⤷ lovelyleclerc but the whimsy

⤷ charles_leclerc fuck whimsy, keep your promises 😸

⤷ lovelyleclerc die

⤷ charles_leclerc the way this season is going, i might. 😬

⤷ lovelyleclerc ferrari moment (❤️)

oscarpiastri 💬 I wouldn’t either

liked by lovelyleclerc

⤷ lovelyleclerc finally someone who understands whimsy ✨

⤷ oscarpiastri I try my best

°｡🍊𓏲⋆.🧺 ₊˚

Race days were always loud. The kind of loud that couldn’t be ignored. That begged to be noticed. With your bags full of ripe fruit, sunglasses from the 1970s, and more iced coffee than you’d admit to anyone, you stepped right into it. The train in left at the crack of dawn, the bustling excitement of fans heading in from all over Italy to watch the race in Monaco felt intimidating. You’d stuck to your assigned seat, bags taking up extra space, head deep in a book you’d picked up from the old woman who lived down the road from you (ten minutes by bike, twenty by foot, which was as close as neighbours got). You’d ignored their speculations on who would win the gem of the F1 calendar. You ignored their comments on Charles Leclerc most of all, trying not to gag when they spoke of his passionate gaze. Gross.

The paddock was bustling, nestled between buildings ingrained into the city’s heart. A place you only came for family dinners and races. Monaco was too … well put together for someone like you. Or so you’d always thought. The country was simpler, easier. Sure, your window shutters were falling apart, your kitchen needed to be redone, and your fences were rotting. But it was yours. None of this had belonged to you, despite the way your brothers said it did.

You checked the list in a crumpled notebook. To Ferrari first, as always. To check up on your brother and deliver produce. Despite never asking for it, Charles ordered all his produce from you. You’d protested at first, as a sibling always does when their brother decides to do what brothers do best.

“I’m no different than a customer,” he’d argued. “We are related, that’s all. I still know it’s better than what any stores offer here.” He hadn’t been wrong. You’d seen the produce in some of the grocery stores the other drivers frequented. You’d been silent, but your disgust had apparently spoken volumes.

Your paddock pass hung loosely around your neck as you weaved through crowds of technicians, strategists, and social media admins filming race day content. The hat on your hat fell sloppily over your eyes. You’d made it, or, tried to. In the end, you’d given up, and asked Signora Bonetti to finish it. You’d tied the bow on, though, which was your proudest achievement.

The Ferrari hospitality zone was too modern for your taste. You stuck out like a sore thumb, with clothes sewn on rainy days or thrifted from the handful of elderly women within an hour walking distance (there were more than you could have thought). Most people glanced through you, but you’d never minded.

“Ah, ducky!” Charles’ voice rang out. You turned, catching him leaving his driver’s room, race suit halfway on.

“Hello, Charles,” you greeted with a gentle smile. He rushed towards you, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulder. Never full hugs with him, not because of discomfort, but because his race suit made him sweat, and smell. Which you’d been vehemently against.

“No pleasantries?” He asked. “You wound me!” He placed a hand over his heart.

“I’m sorry, bub,” you spoke quietly. Charles offered you another smile. “It’s been a long day.” Charles furrowed his brows.

“It’s 10 AM.”

“Yes.” Charles blinked and shrugged. “How are you, though? Nervous for the home race?” The race he’d yet to win. The one place he wanted to win the most. For many drivers, the home race was important. More important than the WDC, in some cases. Charles was already a world champion, in your eyes at least. But he needed to win at home to prove he could do it. That he deserves to be here, among the greats.

“I’m starting on pole, which is promising,” Charles explained. He sighed and shook his head. “I am scared shitless, ducky,” he confessed. You laid your head against his shoulder.

“You’ll be great,” you whispered. “Just don’t listen to your engineers and you’ll be fine.” You heard him snort. A silent agreement.

“I brought all your favourites, plus some extra.” You brought out one of your many handmade tote bags, filled with veggies and fruits, hand selected to excel in dishes of all kinds. You saw the joy creep into Charles’ face.

“Ducky, you didn’t have to,” he whispered as he took the bag from you. He fumbled under the weight. “How much extra did you put in there?”

“Enough,” you joked. The bag was nearly falling apart. Not your best work, by far. But that didn’t matter, not to Charles.

“How much do I owe you?” He asked.

“Nothing, bub. Just win your race.”

“Well, now I have to.” You simply nodded. He placed the fruit on one of the many chairs that decorated the hospitality suite. You adjusted the other bags on your shoulders. Charles drank them in.

“More deliveries?” He asked. You nodded, showing him your list. Charles whistled as he read the names.

“I claim credit for this, by the way,” he teased as he handed the list back to you.

“Because you grew all the fruit yourself, obviously.”

“Obviously.” It fell silent as his grip vanished from your side. “You’ll watch from Ferrari, right?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Your voice always came out gentle around your brother. The one closest in almost every way except age. Charles pressed a kiss to your forehead as he sent you a wave. You mirrored it, arms full of fresh produce. You turned and headed out. You had a few stops to make before the race started.

You went to Red Bull next, leaving Max strawberries and oranges for P, as requested. Then to Williams for Alex, who wanted cucumbers and onions. Fernando wanted an obscene amount of garlic, but you’d stopped questioning it.

You’d emptied most of your bags, save for two. The McLaren boys had each ordered as many things they could get their hands on. Their bags were the heaviest, aside from Charles.

You were let in by one of McLaren’s social team, who you gave an orange. Inside, it was chaos. The race was starting soon, so everyone was losing it, just a little.

You approached Lando’s driving room and knocked. He opened the door, his race suit messily done up. He smiled when he saw you, as he always did.

“Hello, stranger!” He chirped as he pulled you in for a hug.

“Hello yourself,” you mimicked him. You pulled back and held up his overflowing bag. His face brightened.

“Did I mention you’re my favourite Leclerc?” He asked as he pulled the bag from her.

“Don’t tell Charles that,” you replied as he let you into his driving room. “He still says you can be world champion.” Lando snorted.

His driver’s room was cleaner than anyone would expect. He offered you a seat while he adjusted his suit.

“How’s your farm?” Lando asked.

“It’s alright, the ducks miss you.” Months ago, you’d adopted a mother and baby ducks, and they’d all grown up. They marched around your land like they owned it, and they’d taken to Lando instantly. Because he’d been wearing orange the day they met, and he looked enough like a duck where they’d started following him around. They’d become his babies. The closest he’d get to a pet before he retired.

“I’ll just have to visit then,” Lando chuckled as he fixed his hair. Lando’s eyes caught someone moving in the mirror. “Oí, Oscar, come get your shit!” The Australian shuffled into the room.

“Hi,” he greeted you with a small smile. His suit was also mostly on.

“Hi, Oscar,” you greeted. You’d never been close with him. Not like Lando. He was sweet, of course, but Lando had become something of a best friend. Oscar was someone you knew well enough, but not enough to crack jokes with. Not yet, anyway. There was still time. Time to crack through the layers of him, like an onion.

He reached out for the last bag you were holding. You surrendered it. “Shit has been delivered,” you stated. Oscar smiled and chuckled. A quiet thing with no bite or teeth. A gentle thing best meant to be enjoyed by candlelight.

“It’s gorgeous,” he expressed. “You grow all this?” You nodded with a big grin.

“Oui, I have a farm a few hours from here. I have a special F1 driver discount.”

“Aren’t I lucky?” Oscar’s grin turned cheeky. “It looks great. Better than the grocery stores, I think.” You felt yourself beam with pride.

“That’s the goal!” Lando glanced at you from his spot in front of the mirror. You forced your smile down to something manageable.

“I should get going, Charles is expecting me to watch him win.”

“You told him not to listen to his engineers?” Lando asked.

“Of course, what do you take me for? A masochist?” Lando snorted. Even Oscar chuckled again. You offered a wave as you turned to leave.

“Wait,” Oscar called for you as you pushed the door open into the late spring air. He still had his bag of fruit and veggies. “Thanks, for the stuff.” He sounded awkward in a way that made your stomach flutter.

“You’re welcome. Anytime you need something fresh, just let me know.” He nodded gently. “Of course, with enough time to board a train and transport it.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“I don’t believe in fossil fuel,” you teased. You watched him smile again. You liked his smile, you decided. Oscar waved again and turned away. This time, you were the one who stopped him.

“Good luck, by the way,” you whispered. “Not too much, though. Charles needs this win.”

“So do I, technically,” Oscar shot back. You snorted with a shrug of your shoulders. “I won’t go easy on him.” Oscar warned as you pushed out the door. You turned back for a moment. He was still smiling.

“Good.”

lovelyleclerc HOME RACE WINNER! ❤️

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 10.6k others

view 491 comments …

charles_leclerc 💬 you can stop teasing me now!

⤷ lovelyleclerc how about no??

⤷ lovelyleclerc i’m so proud of you, bub. you deserve this win ❤️❤️

⤷ user best siblings 😭🙏

oscarpiastri 💬 no congrats for me?

⤷ lovelyleclerc good job, chéri, you’ll get it next time 😙

⤷ oscarpiastri so gracious with your praise, it warms my heart 🧡

⤷ charles_leclerc go away this is my moment

maxverstappen1 💬 About time!

⤷ lovelyleclerc truly, he’s almost dead he needs this win

⤷ scuderiaferrari 🫣 not the almost dead

⤷ maxverstappen1 Watch it, I’m older than him.

⤷ lovelyleclerc it’s too late for you 💀

°｡🍊𓏲⋆.🧺 ₊˚

He found you at the train platform, sweating, in casual clothes. He called out for you as the train appeared on the horizon. You stopped and turned back to him as he ran towards you.

“Oscar?” You asked, mostly in confusion. Because he shouldn’t be here. Emphasis on every word in that sentence. He shouldn’t be at the celebration McLaren was no doubt having, shouldn’t be standing across from you, here at the train station. Not when you knew he owned a car more expensive than your farmhouse. “What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, came to ask if you wanted a ride home.” His words were evenly paced as he forced himself to breathe.

“You … ran here to ask me if I needed a ride?” You asked.

“When you say it like that, it sounds dumb.” Oscar stood up straight as the train rolled in. “But, yes.”

“You have to buy a ticket to get on the platform,” you deadpanned. You caught a glimpse of a crumbled ticket to somewhere in Italy, in the same sort of direction you were.

“I didn’t say it was a great idea,” he chimed back. People were boarding, and the train would leave in two minutes. He looked so hopeful. He came all this way to ask to spend time with you. It didn’t make sense. Not the kind of sense it should.

“Have you … taken the train before?” You cringed at the question. But, Oscar smiled shyly.

“Not as much as I should,” he admitted in a gentle rasp. You found yourself holding out your hand.

“Why don’t you try? You already bought a ticket.” He stared at your hand for a few seconds, brain catching up to him. You watched the lightbulb go off.

“You’d want me there?” By there, you assumed he meant the house.

“Extra hands in the morning isn’t something I’d complain about,” you teased. Oscar seemed to brighten at that.

“Why the hell not? Lando always said I should be more spontaneous.”

“And we know Lando’s always right.” He took your hand as the announcer stated that the train was about to depart. He stumbled into the car, letting you show him to your seats for the ride back. A window seat. He settled in beside you, even though you insisted the view would be better across the way. He had shrugged.

“I think the view’s nice where I am.” You hadn’t asked if he meant you, because your heart couldn’t take the answer.

As the train pulled away from the hustle and bustle of Monaco, the sunset turned the sky from blue to reds and orange.

You never saw him take a photo. Only saw it the day after on his Instagram.

oscarpiastri Always a pleasure, Monaco. 🏆

liked by lovelyleclerc, lando, and 104.9k others

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lovelyleclerc 💬 white man takes train for the first time, thinks they’re fucking cool (they are)

⤷ oscarpiastri I had a great seat mate

⤷ lovelyleclerc finally someone with taste 🫶🏼 this isn’t getting you out of egg duty tomorrow

⤷ oscarpiastri Worth a shot 😔

user 💬 THE LAST SLIDE??

lando 💬 told you the produce scheme would work

⤷ lovelyleclerc scheme?? who tf does schemes anymore??

⤷ oscarpiastri 🌽 <- my wingman (thanks Lando, you’re a real one)

⤷ charles_leclerc ???? answer my texts what

⤷ lovelyleclerc suddenly my wifi isn’t working 🫥

maxverstappen1 💬 Do you need a ride back to Monaco?

⤷ oscarpiastri Please 🙏

[notahorseindisguise]

One time I was visiting my dad (child of divorce) and he moved as I was w him. And my mom asked if he could keep me for another couple days n he said sure. Anyways as I get to his new place (gfs apartment) I’m like wow these hallway paintings r cool can I show mom? N he says go for it so I run around the hotel taking pictures n sending them to her then like two days after that I get my phone taken. Couple days after that, I’m not allowed to leave the apartment. My mom was looking for me forrr 45 dayssss but anyways not the point of the story, just wanted to give u some closure. I wanna say- it was the gfs parents apartment, n her mom was literally like, on her death bed but still moving, idk she was just gross I was holed up in a small apartment w a gross old woman and ALSO the gfs son was constantly going out to hang out w his friends. So I was pissed at the injustice, naturally. I would hang out on the balcony sometimes and the son comes in w a smile and is like do u want to go on an adventure? ITHOUGHT my dad wasn’t home so I say yes. Basically on the outside of the windows there were like little ledges \ like that so u could stand on them w some balance. N he basically took me from the balcony around the apartment by way of the window slants. We slide open a window to his grandparents room n he’s like hurry up! N he’s still smiling at me so I’m like okay he’s being nice so I hurry up n we walk through his grandparents room which smelled like bleach and decay and as I open the door I walk into my father. He asks what we were doing in that room n as Im coming up w a lie, the son says “we just got back from outside” n I whip around like BITCH bc wtf? Narc on me😔 n my dad obvs gets mad and tells that I’m not supposed to go outside n im like sorry gang won’t happen again💯 then when it’s just me n the son im about to yell at him for setting me up when he says he has to start packing for his sleepover n shoulder checks me to get to his room n im like not giving up that easily so I go to storm after him but his mom stops me and asks what im doing n im like “just following him?” N she asks if I can help her w choosing an outfit for her so im like? Sure? And I never got to yell at the son but I hated that evil mf. Thx for coming to my ted talk

sorry i really have no clue how the fuck to respond to this fuckjng ask. is this like the story of the time you got kidnapped what the fuck is happening here. who are you. thank you for sharing this

[dazzlemebaby]

James: As top in this relationship, I think we should-

Regulus: I can’t believe you’re pulling rank on me

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

My roommate and I had a conversation last night and I keep rotating it in my brain and I Don’t Like It

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ opposites attract — 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏 ❁

( 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗑 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗄，𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋

✫ my first oscar smau in honor of the australian gp 🥹

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,845,556 others

yn me when the waiter said they don’t offer shirley temples

francolapinto i like shirley temples too…i can make you a shirley temple

⤷ yn i think i’m too young for you

⤷ francolapinto aren’t you 21?

⤷ yn yeah i thought you liked 31 year olds??

⤷ francolapinto OH umm….

⤷ alex_albon Damn she clocked you

⤷ francolapinto OH WHO IS YOU 😒

arthur_leclerc biggie

⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t be rude Arthur

⤷ yn yeah arthur ur just mad i didn’t bring any food back for you fattie

⤷ arthur_leclerc oh so i get growled at for calling her biggie but she doesn’t for calling me fattie?

⤷ charles_leclerc No you’re older you should know better

⤷ arthur_leclerc i can never win 💔

alexandrasaintmleux my favorite date 🥰🥰

⤷ yn my favorite sugar mama 🙂‍↕️

lilymhe How does one look so pretty whilst doing the most normal things?

leclerc_pascale My beautiful baby girl 😍🥰🥰

⤷ yn love u maman 🩷🩷

lando when are you gonna stop stealing your brothers girlfriend and get your own boyfriend?

⤷ yn whenever i want butt muncher. not like anyone lives up to my standards anyways

⤷ lando i might know someone

⤷ carlossainz55 No

⤷ yn and who would that be

⤷ charles_leclerc stop trying to get my little baby sister to date your gross friends lando

alex_albon why are your last 7 posts pictures of you eating

⤷ yn what is it a crime to enjoy good food now or what??? GOSH JUST SAY YOU HATE ME AND YOU THINK IM UGLY AND WANT ME TO DIE

oscarpiastri I love shirley temples

⤷ arthur_leclerc 🤨 whaddomeanbythat

⤷ oscarpiastri What is it a crime to express my love for shirley temples now or what?

⤷ nicolepiastri I’ve never seen you drink a shirley temple in your entire life

⤷ oscarpiastri Mommmmmmm

⤷ georgerussell63 Shhhhhh little Oscar is finally shooting his shot

⤷ alex_albon With his auntie?

⤷ georgerussell63 Not now Alex go have Lily read to you or something

🝮

yn

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,717,426 others

yn went to milan for pasta, and to support charles ig, mostly lewis…but not really…i miss carlos. sorry not sorry CHARLOS4LIFE

georgerussell63 Ooh girl you’re radiating black cat energy

⤷ alex_albon I was bouta say

alexandrasaintmleux My babyyy 🥰🥰❤️

⤷ yn my sissy 🥹🩷

carlossainz55 My ride or die 🤞🏽🤞🏽

⤷ yn they could never make me hate you carlos sainz 💙💙 i’m williams’ number 1 fan now

⤷ williamsracing @scuderiaferrari got your girl 🤣

⤷ scuderiaferrari awh HELL NAHH

oscarpiastri Did you get your shirley temple this time?

⤷ yn indeed i did

⤷ oscarpiastri And how was it

⤷ yn i guess it was alright, it could be better

⤷ oscarpiastri I could make you a better one next week in Australia if you like

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait a damn minute

nicolepiastri You beautiful girl

⤷ yn thank you mama piastri 🥰🥰

⤷ pierregasly YOO IS BUG FINALLY GONNA GET HER FIRST BOYFRIEND???

⤷ yn ho did you just…

⤷ pierregasly I apologize but this is so exciting

francisca.cgomes Ooh lala 😍😍😍

lilymhe I miss you queen I’ve actually been having conversations with Alex to pass by time 💔

⤷ alex_albon Oh thats great to hear 🥲

danielricciardo I just know you fcked some pasta UPPPP

⤷ yn yardy know it dan

lewishamilton Thank you?

⤷ yn you’re welcome dafuq

hattiepiastri face card is insane

⤷ yn oh stop it you 🤭

⤷ pierregasly YOOO BUG GOT THE WHOLE FAMILY HYPING HER UP

⤷ yn pierre…

⤷ pierregasly Once again, I apologize I’m just so invested in this I actually can’t help it

charles_leclerc I’m kinda hurt Leo got to go but I had to stay at the hotel…

⤷ yn i didn’t want to turn into the third wheel

⤷ charles_leclerc yeah right i turn into the third wheel whenever you and alex are together

arthur_leclerc the B in bug stands for biggie

⤷ yn i just watched you pound back 5 chocolate croissants in 3 minutes fattass 🤣🤣🤣 try eating a salad for once double wide

⤷ alex_albon DAMNNN SHE CLOCKED YOU TOO

⤷ oscarpiastri No one humbles you like your own sister

⤷ arthur_leclerc oh who is you 😒

⤷ yn shut up porky go scarf down a hamburger or something butterball

⤷ alex_albon clockedddd

⤷ pierregasly Defending Oscar????? Omg I love this so much please please please never stop 🙏🏽

🝮

yn

liked by kendalljenner and 1,063,782 others

yn i’m here australia

pierregasly Everyone shut up my show is on

maxverstappen1 This early? 👀

⤷ yn boi why you stirring the pot 🤨

mclaren papaya on top 🧡

⤷ yn fosho 🧡

arthur_leclerc Put the food away lil bro

⤷ yn eating all this food AND not working out AND i’m STILL skinner than you 🤣🤣 try harder you fuckin loser 🤕

⤷ alex_albon DAMNNNM ik arthur HATES to see bug coming ⏰😭

mercedesamgf1 Pretty gal 🤩🤩🖤

⤷ yn 🖤🙂‍↕️

alexandrasaintmleux And who took this picture cause I know it wasn’t me 🫣

⤷ yn you’re supposed to be on my side

williamsracing 😍😍

⤷ yn 😘😘💙

charles_leclerc Hey why are you there before me??? What are you up to 🤨🤨

charles_leclerc I better not see any pictures or videos of you with a certain aussie on tik tok

lando i spy papaya. and who drives a papaya car? oscar piastri. and where is oscar piastri from? australia. and where are you? australia. THEY’RE DATING GUYS I CRACKED THE CODE!!

⤷ yn onto something or on something??

scuderiaferrari OUR girl 🥰😍😍

⤷ yn 🫣❤️❤️

oscarpiastri Care to join me for a shirley temple later tonight?? :)

⤷ yn sounds lovely ;)

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOO :’)

⤷ charles_leclerc WOAH WOAH WOAH OSCAR THAT IS YOUR AUNTIE YOU SICKO

⤷ alex_albon HELL YEAH OSCAR SHOOT YOUR SHOT BRO

⤷ danielricciardo Oscar gettin rizzyyyyy

⤷ lando that’s my boy 🥲 they grow up so fast

f1 collecting f1 teams like infinity stones

🝮

yn

liked by haileybieber and 2,819,164 others

yn what a view

pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOOOOO

arthur_leclerc who dis r

leclerc_pascale So cute mon amour 🥰

⤷ nicolepiastri It was so nice meeting your daughter Pascale! She’s just a ray of sunshine, I’ve never seen Oscar smile so much 😂

⤷ leclerc_pascale Thank you Nicole! Your son is the sweetest he’s been treating y/n so well while she’s been in Australia she’s loving it so much over there it’s gonna be hard to get her back home 😂😂 we’ll have to meet up soon!

⤷ nicolepiastri Yes we’ll have to go to lunch with the kids so we can embarrass them with their childhood stories and pictures LOL! 😂

⤷ pierregasly No one knows what this means to me fr

⤷ charles_leclerc YOU KNEW ABOUT THIS MAMAN???? YOU KEPT THIS FROM ME??

⤷ leclerc_pascale Let your sister be happy Charles and be glad she’s talking to a kind man who treats her well instead of one who is mean to her.

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait you lowk right

⤷ charles_leclerc Wait sorry I forgot I was talking to my mother

pierregasly kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ francisca.gomes kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ carmenmmundt kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ georgerussell63 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ alex_albon kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lilymhe kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ charlotte2304 kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lorenzotl kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ charles_leclerc what the hell it’s not like i can keep you from dating any longer. kiss! kiss! kiss! kiss!

⤷ lando KISS DAMN IT

⤷ oscarpiastri Okay

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOO BRUHH I DID THAT

🝮

yn

liked by lewishamilton and 3,371,405 others

yn i love you australia

pierregasly YOOOOOO CALL ME RN OMGGG

⤷ yn pierre…

⤷ pierregasly CALL ME BUG

⤷ yn ok damn

⤷ francisca.cgomes maybe it is a good thing that f1 is back this week…

charles_leclerc ❤️

⤷ pierregasly YOOOO HE GOT THE APPROVAL

nicolepiastri Australia loves you too ;)

⤷ pierregasly yooo 😏🤨

lorenzotl “Australia” sure

⤷ yn 🤫

⤷ pierregasly YOOO

arthur_leclerc at least you’re eating fruit

⤷ yn yeah you should try it once in while fuckin pot belly pig

⤷ alex_albon CLOCKEDDD

⤷ arthur_leclerc Do you really have nothing else better to do?? 😒

⤷ yn DO YOU HAVING NOTHING BETTER TO DO YOU FUCKING LOSER

⤷ alex_albon ⏰⏰⏰

oscarpiastri I love you Monaco

⤷ leclerc_pascale Monaco loves you too ;)

⤷ pierregasly YOOO THIS IS CRAAAZY

⤷ oscarpiastri Do you just constantly refresh instagram to see new comments?

⤷ pierregasly Durrrr

danielricciardo Okay just out here lookin all radiant and shit

lando oi who’s that handsome bloke in the last slide? 😏😏

⤷ yn 8️⃣1️⃣

⤷ pierregasly YOOO QUIT TRYNA BE ALL SNEAKY AND JUST HARD LAUNCH!!!!!!!!!!

⤷ charles_leclerc Yeah guys it’s pretty obvious you two are already dating

⤷ charles_leclerc I mean you started dating a week after meeting but who cares it’s obvious you guys are never breaking up

⤷ yn wow thanks for outing us thick neck bitch

mclaren Welcome to the papaya family! 🧡

⤷ scuderiaferrari Hey that’s our girl

⤷ mercedesamgf1 Guys…cmon…she’s literally obsessed Toto, she’s ours

⤷ williamsracing You’re all fighting for second, we got Carlos so that means we got y/n

⤷ yn ladies ladies there’s enough of me for everyone 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

🝮

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc and 1,407,583 others

oscarpiastri I’ve been taking up photography lately, what do you guys think?

pierregasly YOOOOO BRUHH YOU GUYS ARE LIKE BASICALLY MARRIED NOW

charles_leclerc No funny business 🤨

francisca.cgomes oscar don’t know what to do with allat

⤷ oscarpiastri Trust me, I do

⤷ pierregasly YOOO GETTING FREAKY ON THE MAIN?? OSCAR PIASTRI???? FREAKY?????

lando So you guys basically have me to thank for this whole relationship 🤷‍♂️

yn get my good side 🙂‍↔️

⤷ francisca.cgomes girl every side of you is good 😘

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux So photogenic it makes me mad 😾

⤷ yn you guys literally look like angels all hours of the day

leclerc_pascale Mon petite fille 🩷🩷

danielricciardo I bet Oscar took this picture just to take it like she didn’t even have to ask like he’s just the type of guy to do that

⤷ maxverstappen1 Oscar is the type of guy to see something his girlfriend would like and buy it on the spot

⤷ alex_albon Oscar is the type of guy to take pictures of cute animals and sunsets to send to his gf and be like “thought of you”

⤷ georgerussell63 Oscar is the type of guy to go to the wake up at 3am and make his girl food because she said she was hungry

⤷ pierregasly Yoo my boy Oscar is the type of guy who would let his girlfriend put her feet on his face and be unbothered

⤷ lando oscar is the type of guy who would be to scared to be rough with his girlfriend in bed

⤷ yn you’d be surprised…i know i was

⤷ pierregasly YOOOOOOOOOO

⤷ lando oscar you dirty boy 😈😈

⤷ maxverstappen1 Where did polite cat Oscar go?? 🤨

⤷ danielricciardo Oscar you naughty naughty boy what have you been up to this week 😈😈

⤷ oscarpiastri I put my phone down to make y/n grilled cheese and tomato soup and this is what I come back to?

🝮

yn

liked by leahkateb and 1,938,241 others

yn this is my husband guys we eloped 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

pierregasly YOOO ARE YOU FR????

oscarpiastri We didn’t elope guys we literally just started dating last week

⤷ charles_leclerc The talking stage lasted barely 6 days before you asked her out so we wouldn’t be surprised

⤷ leclerc_pascale When you know you know

⤷ nicolepiastri One day he was introducing her to us as his friend a week later he texted the family group chat “we’re dating btw” 😂🩷

oscarpiastri In a few years baby 😂

⤷ pierregasly Yo this got me feeling all giddy and shit 🥹 oh young love

⤷ yn bro’s gonna be 30 next year 😟 old asl you’re gonna get arthritis soon

⤷ georgerussell63 I know Oscar is never bored with bug

⤷ oscarpiastri Definitely keeps me on my toes…don’t be surprised if I start graying in the next few months guys

⤷ leclerc_pascale Mon chou quit giving Oscar such a hard time please

⤷ yn i can’t help it maman it’s just who i am

⤷ oscarpiastri I’ll gladly take worry lines and gray hair as long you’re by my side ❤️

⤷ yn omg stoppp do you like me or something 🙂‍↕️

⤷ oscarpiastri I like you a lot

⤷ oscarpiastri Give her minute she had to step outside to calm down

⤷ yn omg i like you too

⤷ arthur_leclerc they’re commenting all this while sitting by each other btw

charles_leclerc Out of everyone in the world I’m glad you ended up with Oscar because I didn’t think anyone else had the patience to deal with you and your standards other than your own family

⤷ yn ok rude 🖐️ fuck out my face slut

⤷ oscarpiastri Let’s go get some ice cream and take a walk on the beach honey

⤷ yn comingggg 😋😋😋😋

⤷ danielricciardo And they lived happily ever after

pierregasly yo 🥹❤️

[swanlikely]

Current Brainrot: Drunk Reader! w/ Boyfriend Caleb!

Author's Note: I wanted to write something sweet again—him being a little overbearing but it’s cute. This is Caleb and his girl being gross and cringe, and in love, as usual. Please check out the artist! She's such a sweetie, and she's talented! (Artist & Original Post)

not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and I'll fix it!)

CW: AFAB!reader, pet names, possessive behavior, alcohol use (reader), slight dub-con (if you squint), suggestive ending.

Caleb is the kind of boyfriend who says, “Go have fun, baby,” and means it; but still stands posted, watching, in the corner of every bar you drag him to. He lets you dance, drink, flirt with your friends, yell-laugh at karaoke, and scream-sob over fries in the back booth like it's a sacred ritual. All while he nurses a single drink and watches you with the kind of soft-eyed amusement that says: That’s my girl. Loud, messy, gorgeous. Mine.

Anyone who looks too long gets a stare. Not a scowl; not enough to draw attention. Just a faint warning in his eyes. He doesn't interrupt, only hovers. But everyone knows you didn’t come here alone.

You catch his gaze across the bar more than once. He doesn’t budge. Just lifts his brows like, You sure? — and when you pout, he caves. Of course he does.

He doesn’t even like dancing. He just likes you.

And he follows you like it’s instinct. Loyal in that unshakable way; like a dog who’s chosen their person and never once thought of looking back. He keeps the dog tag you gave him years ago in pristine condition, always polished and shining on the chain around his neck. You joked about it once, calling it his collar.

He’d smile, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly. Like it was a privilege he never planned to take off.

Sometimes, when you’re feeling extra bratty, you'd call him your golden retriever boyfriend.

Big. Loyal. Always underfoot. Quick to roll over and give you anything you want.

He usually snorts, eyes gleaming. “I’m a Colonel, Pips, not a pet.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, poking at his chest. “You follow me around all night, you take my boots off, you carry my bag, and you’d probably bark if I asked.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He considered it, for a moment at least.

You pause, then snicker. “Actually, you’re more like a German shepherd.”

He just shrugs, smirking. “I bite if I have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. My big tough lapdog.” You slur as those glossy lips lifted into a grin.

That earns you a growl: low, playful, and way too pleased.

By the time he gets you home, you’re giggling at nothing and absolutely useless. Your boots are halfway off, your eyeliner is migrating to your temples, and you're swaying on your feet like the floor’s made of jelly.

But Caleb? Caleb lives for this part.

He’s all quiet efficiency now. Scoops you into the bathroom with one arm around your waist and sits you on the counter. He holds your chin with his cool metal hand as he swipes away your makeup with a cotton pad, eyes fixed on your face like you’re some precious artifact.

“You had fun tonight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing under your eye. “You look like a raccoon.”

“You love raccoons,” you grin, and he huffs a laugh.

He helps you out of your clothes next — not even in a weird way (not yet, anyway), just slow and patient, peeling off layers like you're delicate. Your socks are the last to go, and he rolls them down with that same robotic hand, his touch cold but sweet as he kisses the inside of your ankle.

He adores this. Taking care of you. Spoiling you. Making sure you never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. You’d barely have to ask; Caleb would already be there, already doing it, like it’s wired into him.

“You’re such a sap,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut.

“Maybe,” he says, lips brushing higher up your leg. “But you’re mine.”

His voice dips on that word. Not playful. Final.

And when he presses one more kiss — higher, warmer, slower; your breath hitches just a little.

Not so drunk now, are you?

He chuckles at the look on your face. “C’mon, Pips,” he says, voice low as he leans in. “Let me tuck you in. And if you’re real good…”

His mouth brushes your ear.

“…maybe I won’t stop there.”

You barely get a breath in before his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, unhurried like he’s tracing a map he’s already memorized. His metal hand drifts up your thigh, cool and relaxed, while his other curls behind your knee, tugging you just a little closer to the edge of the counter.

“You were drivin’ me crazy tonight,” he murmurs, and your skin begins to vibrate. He was electrifying. “Spinnin’ around like that, laughin’ like I didn’t want to drag you out of there and keep you all to myself.”

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” you catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and something uniquely Caleb—clean, a little musky, and completely intoxicating. “All night, I wanted to touch you—wanted to pull you close, but I held back.”

“I was good,” he hums, voice low. “I waited. But damn, it was hard not to just… reach for you.”

There’s no teasing in it. Just that low, confessional tone he gets when he’s close to breaking. When he’s been good for too long.

“I watched you have your fun,” he says, lips brushing your sternum, “now let me have mine.”

Your head lolls back against the mirror as his tongue flicks against your skin, warm where his hand is cold, and your whole body goes pliant under his touch. He kisses down your stomach, sinking to his knees without a single word of warning, spreading your legs with a reverence that makes your pulse stutter.

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, but a shiver and a flash of heat travels through your middle.

“I’ve got you now,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded as he presses a kiss between your thighs, like a thank you. Like a promise.

“You don't have to do anything else tonight, Pips,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does.

[pixiexdusts-world]

Meet the Heffley’s

Rodrick Heffley x reader

Summary: Rodrick’s girlfriend meets his chaotic family, and Manny tries to steal her. She loves it anyway.

Word count: 1010

Notes: this is very random but I love Rodrick so I needed to write something

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Meeting your boyfriend’s family is supposed to be a big deal, right? Like, one of those moments where you dress nice, bring flowers or something, and sit down for an awkwardly polite dinner while his parents judge you.

Yeah. That’s not how things work with Rodrick Heffley.

When he invited me over for dinner, it was more like, “Hey, my mom said you should come over and eat with us or whatever.” Super romantic. But I agreed because, well… I wanted to meet them. Rodrick talks about his family all the time, mostly to complain, but still. I was curious.

So, here I am, standing on the Heffleys’ front porch, wondering if I should have brought something. Probably not. This doesn’t seem like the kind of house where formal dinner etiquette exists.

Before I can knock, the door swings open, and there he is.

Rodrick smirks, leaning against the doorframe like he’s so cool. “Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to show up.”

I roll my eyes, stepping closer. “I’m on time.”

“Yeah, well, you were supposed to be, like, ten minutes late so I could say something sarcastic about it.”

I laugh and kiss his cheek, just to make him flustered. It works. His smirk falters for half a second before he clears his throat and steps aside. “Alright, come in before my mom starts thinking I made you up.”

The inside of the house is exactly what I expected. A little messy, with random shoes lying around, a stack of newspapers no one’s bothered to throw away, and a distinct family chaos vibe. The smell of dinner cooking comes from the kitchen, something warm and homey.

And then I hear it.

“Rodrick! She’s here?!”

Before I can react, a woman appears—short, blonde, and way too excited. I barely have time to brace myself before she pulls me into a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! I’m Susan, Rodrick’s mom. Oh, you’re even prettier than I imagined!”

“Uh, thanks,” I manage, shooting a look at Rodrick, who just shrugs like, Yeah, this is happening.

His mom pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “Rodrick never tells us anything about his personal life. You should’ve seen my face when he said he had a girlfriend. I almost dropped my coffee!”

Rodrick groans. “Mom.”

“What?” She waves him off. “I’m just happy to meet her. Oh, come in, come in! We’re just about to set the table.”

I follow her into the dining room, where a younger boy sits at the table, flipping through a comic book. He glances up, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re Rodrick’s girlfriend?”

“Greg,” Susan scolds. “Be nice.”

“What? I’m just saying.” Greg shrugs, then looks at me. “You do know he’s, like, the worst, right?”

“Hey, shut up, loser,” Rodrick snaps, dropping into a chair.

I grin. “Oh, I know.”

Greg blinks, clearly not expecting that. Then he mutters, “Huh. Okay.”

That’s when I feel a tiny hand grab mine.

I glance down to see a little kid—Manny, I recognize him from Rodrick’s rare stories about him—staring up at me with big eyes.

“I have a girlfriend too,” he announces proudly.

Susan gasps. “Manny! Since when?”

“Since yesterday,” he says, like it’s obvious. Then he looks back up at me and asks, completely serious, “Do you like dinosaurs?”

I nod. “Who doesn’t like dinosaurs?”

Manny grins, clearly satisfied with my answer. “Okay. You’re my second girlfriend now.”

Rodrick groans. “Oh my God.”

Greg snickers. “Dude, you already have competition.”

Manny tugs at my sleeve again. “Rodrick is gross. Do you wanna be just my girlfriend instead?”

Rodrick drops his fork. “Are you kidding me? Mom, tell him he can’t steal my girlfriend!”

Susan barely holds back a laugh. “Manny, sweetie, she’s Rodrick’s girlfriend.”

Manny huffs. “Fine.”

This is amazing.

Dinner is… interesting. The food is good—spaghetti and garlic bread—but the conversation is pure chaos. Susan keeps asking me questions about school, my family, my plans for the future (Rodrick groans at that one). Greg watches me like he’s trying to figure out why I’d willingly date his brother. And Manny? He spends the whole meal making dramatic faces at Rodrick and occasionally whispering, “Rodrick is a doo-doo head.”

Rodrick spends most of the meal making sarcastic comments and kicking me under the table whenever his mom gets too nosy.

At one point, their dad, Frank, comes in late, looking exhausted. He gives me a polite nod, sits down, and immediately starts ranting about something Rodrick did last week. Rodrick barely reacts, just shoveling food into his mouth while his mom scolds him and Greg smirks like he enjoys watching his brother get in trouble.

It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s so different from my own family’s quiet dinners.

And I kind of love it.

After we eat, Rodrick grabs my hand and tugs me toward the stairs. “Alright, we’re done here. Bye.”

“Rodrick, wait—” Susan starts, but he’s already leading me to his room.

The second he shuts the door, he groans. “I told you my family was annoying.”

I flop onto his bed, laughing. “I like them.”

He gives me a look. “You like them?”

“Yeah. Your mom is sweet, Greg is funny, and Manny… well, he’s trying to steal me, but other than that, he’s adorable.”

Rodrick snorts. “I knew that kid was trouble.”

I smile and lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Not worried, are you?”

He grumbles something under his breath, but I can tell he’s relieved. And maybe even a little happy.

Yeah. I think I’m gonna like being around the Heffleys.

[kaiser1ns]

#. A KISS TO PROVE IT

featuring 𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff + slight suggestive. for him kissing wasn't special, but his actions told you otherwise.

You are thirteen. A teenager���well, at least at the start of teenage life. Watching movies where the main characters share their first kiss has become fascinating. What’s so special about kissing, anyway? Do you just walk up to a random boy and kiss him, or do you tell the friend sitting next to you that you want to try it?

"Sae, do you know anything about kissing?" you ask, glancing at him as he remains glued to the TV, watching yet another football game.

"Huh? You mean that disgusting thing adults do when they love each other?"

Love each other? The thought rolls around your mind. Do you really have to love someone to kiss them?

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” you counter.

He finally looks at you, leaning slightly closer. “What’s so romantic about swapping germs with someone else?”

Typical boy—he doesn’t get it.

But what if? What if you kissed someone you really, really liked? What if he was the boy sitting next to you, holding your hand like he is now, his curious gaze waiting for an answer? Would it still be disgusting? Or would it be... something else?

“When a boy and a girl fall in love, they do more than just hold hands or visit each other’s houses,” you murmur, your cheeks heating under his stare.

At your words, Sae lets go of your hand, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t said anything, but then he speaks.

"Do you want to try?” he asks but you don’t answer. You can’t. Your heart is pounding, but he leans in before and... It’s quick, awkward, and ends almost before it begins—a brush of lips that leaves your mind with questions.

“That’s it?” he asks, skeptic and unimpressed by the mere act of kissing. You’re stunned silent, your lips tingling. But Sae, who is never satisfied, leans in again. “Let me prove it—kissing is gross.”

This time, it’s slower, more deliberate, and definitely less awkward. It’s warm, it’s strange, and you can’t help but think he’s wrong. It’s not gross at all. This time, the kiss lingers, as if he’s trying to understand why you find it so fascinating. The world seems to fade away for a moment, until—

The front door slams open.

“I’m home!” a familiar voice echoes through the house, followed by hurried footsteps. Sae pulls back instantly, his expression blank as if nothing happened.

Rin appears in the doorway, stopping dead in his tracks. He blinks at the two of you, then points at you and Sae accusingly. “Why is Nii-chan eating her face?”

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

Sae groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rin, stop saying stupid things.”

As Rin bounds away, laughing, you sit frozen, your cheeks on fire. Sae exhales, leaning back on the couch like it never happened. “See? Disgusting,” he mutters, though his tone sounds less sure now but he still reached out to hold your hand.

Some things, it seems, are better left in theory.

When Sae left for Spain, it felt like your heart had been ripped out. The boy you’d spent so many afternoons with, arguing, laughing, and most importantly sharing your first kiss, was gone. And the distance between you, one thing remained certain: Sae was your first love, and you fully intended for him to be your last.

Now you are seventeen, in a cozy hotel room, sitting on the plush couch, it feels like no time has passed. He’s here again, leaning into you, and the world-famous athlete—Itoshi Sae the pride of Japan, playing for Re Al is nowhere to be seen.

To you, he’s just Sae. The same annoying, sarcastic boy who always got under your skin, except now.

His lips are on yours, firm and demanding, as if making up for lost time. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you don’t resist. How could you, when you’ve been missing him just as much?

His mouth trails down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you let out a soft sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair. “You’ve been gone too long,” you whisper, between kisses. Sae pauses just long enough to smirk against your lips. “Not my fault you’re terrible at long-distance relationships.”

You roll your eyes, but the playful retort dies on your tongue as his lips find yours again, hungrier this time. He’s missed you—he doesn’t need to say it; it’s in the way he kisses you, the way he is finally claiming his most important prize.

“Still gross?” you tease, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, his expression softens. “Very gross,” he says, before pulling you back into another kiss, as if trying to prove his point all over again.

You melt into him, your heart pounding as your hands clutch his shirt, desperate to close the space between you. It’s overwhelming, messy, and intense, but neither of you care.

Right now Sae isn’t Japan’s treasure. He’s yours.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[azzibuckets]

every time we feel

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: am obsessed with the dynamic of best friends who always brinking on the edge of something more. best friends who touch each other in ways that are intimate but not necessarily sexual, because all they know is that they love each other, and so maybe it doesn’t matter that they mistakenly define themselves as something less when everything between them has always been more

word count: 3.7k

main masterlist | oneshots masterlist

“aight, i’m done.” paige scoots out from under the table, sitting up with her palms pressed to the carpet. damp curls of hair tousled from lying on the ground stick to her damp forehead, and her face is flushed from the warmth. “you need help with anything else?”

“na, i think that was it.”

paige collapses on the ground with a grunt, biceps flexed as her arms splay out. “is your ac broken or something? it’s hot as fuck in here.” she wipes at her forehead, arm coming away shiny.

“we’re getting it fixed soon,” azzi replies apologetically, moving from her spot on the couch to paige’s side. the blonde is warm, and smells a little like sweat, and her sports bra is damp and clinging to her chest. paige smiles at her, worn and soft in the way she always is when she’s tired from a long day. and although she’s more subdued like this, meager energy left to banter back and forth and play around like they usually do, there’s an unusual softness in the way she speaks to azzi, words worn with quiet affection. azzi loves it.

paige flips onto her side, mischief knit in the familiar quirk of her eyebrows. azzi knows what’s coming before it happens, but it doesn’t stop her from yelping loudly when paige tucks a hand into her waist and burrows her perspiring face into her chest.

azzi doesn’t know why she’s not as grossed out as she should be—her best friend is wiping her sweat all over her, for fuck’s sake. but something in her stomach stirs, and she lets paige continue being annoying for longer than she should before she utters out a weak, “paige, gross,” hitting her shoulder, as the older girl breaks out into obnoxious laughter.

“nah, princess gotta pay for all this work somehow.” paige lifts a limp finger to poke at her dimple before flopping down again, this time onto azzi’s chest instead of the ground. azzi has half a mind to push paige and all her unshowered mess off, but decides that she’s already gross anyways, and there’s no harm in letting paige rest after the two hours she’d just sacrificed doing menial work around her apartment.

so azzi wraps an arm around her neck, presses her lips to her temple. “thank you, bob the builder.”

“it’s really not that hard, mama, you just gotta follow the instructions,” paige chuckles. “did you even try?”

she’s met with resounding silence, and the blonde raises a smug eyebrow. “knew it.”

azzi flicks her forehead. “why do the work when you’re always there to do it for me?”

paige pinches her waist in retaliation, and the younger girl giggles before they’re interrupted by a buzz of the phone. frowning, paige’s attention quickly shifts to checking her notifications. as she types on the screen, azzi rolls onto her stomach to study the blonde. paige has always been objectively pretty—pretty in a way that azzi could appreciate and compliment, just like all her other beautiful friends—in a way that she never really gave too much thought to.

but the foundation of their friendship had been long distance, and in all the brief moments throughout the years that they’d seen each other, azzi hadn’t had the time to focus on how paige’s body was changing. yet now, with near constant proximity to paige clad in only a sports bra and her signature low-hanging sweats always hugging her hips just right; or paige sweaty after practice, rolling up her sleeves to proudly show off her pump; or paige in the cold tub, water gleaming and dripping off tan skin and long thighs, azzi has quickly realized that the blonde has been hitting the weight room. a lot. gone were stick-skinny arms, replaced with visible biceps and thrraded muscle. she’s grown into her height, lankiness turning into sturdiness that azzi could feel whenever she pressed her hands to her chest.

and probably the most stunning realization azzi has had to come across is that paige is hot. like, veiny hands, ringed fingers, raspy voice, type shit hot. the kind of hot in all those shitty smutty books she reads. the kind of hot she would’ve never expected from her best friend, who’s always been annoying and goofy and sweet to her. but somehow paige manages to be all of it, and azzi’s not, like, in love with paige or anything, but fuck, does it screw with azzi’s gay head.

her focus shifts down. there’s a light sheen of sweat coating paige’s tummy, and before azzi can consider all the ten thousand reasons why her next decision would be a bad idea, she lowers her mouth and licks paige’s stomach, tongue sweeping out to taste skin and sweat. paige’s mouth hinges open, phone immediately dropping to the ground, forgotten.

“fuck.” she swallows, staring at azzi in disbelief. “that was kinda hot.”

“i’ve never given someone a hickey,” she blurts out. she blinks, not knowing how that even came out of her mouth. it’s not like she’d been thinking of hickeys, only how annoyingly good paige looked, how soft her skin seemed.

paige looks pained. “you’ve never given someone a hickey?” she repeats, voice a little scratchy. her hips shift, so slight that azzi couldn’t have noticed if she wasn’t already staring at the way the waistband of her boxers peeked out tantalizingly over her pants. azzi licks her lips.

“i mean, i’ve gotten hickeys, but i don’t know. i’ve just never felt the urge to give them to someone else.”

paige rubs her tongue over her bottom lip. “you sayin’ that like you wanna learn, princess.”

azzi can see the goosebumps forming on paige’s arms, the nervous flick in her eyes. it only spurs her on. “i mean, i might be down to learn.” her tone shifts, low and smothered with heat. “with the right person.”

paige’s eyes flutter shut, temptation fighting a war in her heart. when they open again, azzi’s heart skips a beat when she sees that her pupils are completely blown over, irises now a dark, hazy blue with hooded and heavy lids. fuck.

paige pushes her sweats down. “right here. where no one can see.” her thumb brushes over the indentation of her waist, where it slopes down to meet her hipbone. when azzi touches with her own fingers, grazing slightly over the curve, a little breathy sigh leaves her parted lips.

azzi dips her head down, mouth meeting the tender, soft skin of her hip and immediately going to work. there’s a hitch in paige’s breath, her hand steadying on azzi’s head as her hips involuntarily rock up, desperate for more. azzi meets her gaze, big brown eyes rounded over while her full mouth suckles at her skin, and paige moans, loud and unashamed. azzi hooks the cotton material with her thumb and drags it down further, giving herself a bigger canvas to paint over with her mouth. when every inch of the entire area is covered with angry marks, azzi soothes over the redness with her tongue, dragging it slowly over the dip of her hip.

“god, azzi.” paige’s eyes are glazed over, and she swallows hard, unable to tear her eyes away from the tattoo kisses.

azzi sits up, breathing hard, tongue sweet with the taste of paige’s skin and teeth itching to sink into more. her best friend looks wrecked, bottom lip bitten raw between her teeth. azzi nips at her jaw playfully, and paige groans when she pulls away. they’re both too lost in the moment to notice the click of the door unlocking, with paige, sprawled on the ground, v-line exposed, chest heaving up and down as azzi hovers above her, thumbs rubbing her bare hips.

christyn drops her bag on the floor. nika snorts. evina sighs.

“fuck.” paige yanks up her pants in a hurry, mortified, and azzi rolls away quickly, staring up at the ceiling.

“actually, i don’t even wanna know what y’all were doing,” christyn mutters, grabbing her belongings and walking to her room.

“you guys know it’s legal, right?” nika giggles, earning a smack to the back of the head by evina.

“go to your room, nik,” she says, and with a huff the brunette trails off.

paige clears her throat and starts throwing nails and screwdrivers into the toolbox. “sorry, e. was just putting some shit together for azzi.”

“it’s alright.” evina eyes them warily. “paige, you should go home. it’s getting pretty late.” shaking her head a little, she leaves the room.

“i’m gonna…” paige jabs her thumb at the door.

“your shirt.” azzi throws it at her, and paige winces. “that really didn’t help the allegations, huh?”

“whatever. they can think what they wanna think.” azzi runs her fingers through paige’s ponytail, twirling the strands in a loop before giving it a playful tug. “see you tomorrow?”

paige clears her throat. she feels awkward, for some reason, but azzi moves around her like everything is normal. “yeah.”

“alright.” azzi cups her neck and kisses her cheek. “good night. i love you.”

paige hooks a finger through the band of her jean shorts. “i’m…” azzi stares at her expectantly, and paige realizes how stupid she looks and changes her mind. “never mind,” she says. “i love you too.” she doesn’t even know what she’d been trying to say—only that she wasn’t quite ready to let azzi go.

“you sure you don’t wanna stay over?” azzi asks softly. she purses her lips, almost embarrased, and paige gets it. they’ve spent the entire day together, spotting each other at lift before matching up in practice. they’d even grabbed lunch before heading to azzi’s apartment, and still, paige thinks it’s not enough time with the person she loves most.

“i think evina would kill me.” she jabs azzi’s stomach playfully. “but i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“okay.” azzi walks her to the door, squeezing her hand before she goes, and paige walks home in silence.

in reality, she knows that they’ll be fine, that they’re the type of friends who can give each other hickeys and be completely normal the next. a little voice in her mind wishes that they weren’t. that maybe something would finally change, that azzi be seem as affected as she was. then she’s confused on why she even thinks that, why she would want anything in their relationship to change when things are perfect. the lack of sleep must be making her go crazy, so she rushes through her shower and slips into her sheets.

barely ten hours later, they’re sitting on the locker room floor. paige is leaning against her locker, sipping out of her water bottle as she scrolls mindlessly on tiktok, while azzi is next to her, legs splayed out, socked feet knocking against paige’s as she plays with the drawstrings on her shorts. “can i see them?” azzi asks after a while, voice low against the buzz in the locker room.

“see what?”

“you know what.” azzi’s knuckles brush against her knee. “wanna know if i did good.”

“i don’t think you gotta worry about that,” paige snorts. she’d been late to practice that day—turns out it’s easy to lose track of time on the toilet seat when you pull your pajamas down and are reminded of the night before by dark bruises, splotchy and harsh against your pale skin, and start thinking about your best friend pressing you down, the feel of her pink mouth, wet and possessive, against your bare skin, how good the pain from her teeth and tongue had felt. fuck.

“i wanna see my masterpiece.” azzi tugs her to the bathroom, and they lock the single stall before azzi’s hands are on her waist and fisting her shorts down. a low whistle comes out of her mouth. “damn. i don’t even have to practice.”

paige shakes her head, waistband snapping back into place. “ion even wanna know who you’re practicing with.”

azzi grins. “did it feel good?”

paige avoids her eyes. “it was alright. kinda tickled.”

“nah, don’t be lying now,” azzi snorts. “you were moaning.”

“was not.”

“getting all hot and bothered just from a hickey,” she snickers.

paige sends her the nastiest look she can muster, which turns out to be not very nasty when it’s aimed towards her best friend, someone she can never really stay mad at. “shut the hell up, azzi.”

“let me know when you’re ready for round two,” azzi sing-songs.

paige pushes the dark haired girl as they walk out of the bathroom. “aight, it wasn’t like that. and you know it.”

“i’m just saying, maybe you need to get laid. it’s been a while.”

“what, you tryna make me fit the allegations?” paige snorts.

“pretending as if i don’t know you got a dirty ass mind.” azzi’s voice drops a note. “what were you thinking about when i was giving you a hickey, paigey?”

paige goes red all over. “you’re a little shit.”

༉‧₊˚✧

azzi isn’t all that surprised when paige is a no show at dinner. the bus ride over from the game had been loud, and even though the team had pulled out with a meager win, azzi could tell from the way paige had pulled the drawstrings of her hoodie and slipped in her earbuds that despite the final score, she was brooding about her own performance. there’s never been anyone harder on her best friend than herself.

“she’s in one of her moods,” ice grumbles when she shows up alone and the whole team looks at her.

“maybe you’re just annoying,” aaliyah shoots back.

“i didn’t even say anything and she threw her sock at me!” ice says. “i was just tryna be nice and get her to dinner. she can starve for all i care.”

azzi huffs out a sigh and gets up. “i wouldn’t bother,” her teammate warns. “this is like, the angriest i’ve ever seen her. i was scared.”

“it’s azzi,” ines interjects, and no one bothers to argue. azzi doesn’t have time to worry about what that means. thankfully, dinner is arranged at the hotel buffet, making it easy for her to slip out unnoticed in the crowded dining room.

it takes a full minute of knocking on the door for paige to open it. when she sees azzi, she only rolls her eyes before returning to her bed, slumping in the sheets without a word. azzi allows her a moment to pout before picking up a stuffed basketball from the ground and throwing it at her head. “stop sulking.”

paige doesn’t spare her a glance. “shouldn’t you be at dinner?”

“yeah, and i could be eating right now if you weren’t all mopey alone in your room.”

“i didn’t ask for you to come, azzi. just go back down and eat.”

azzi takes a seat next to paige. she doesn’t touch her, not yet. she’s still trying to gauge where her head’s at, and sometimes when paige is really in it she doesn’t like anyone touching her.

“you mad at how you played?”

azzi can practically feel paige rolling her eyes. “what else would i be mad at? jesus.”

“don’t be mean, paige.”

a long exhale leaves the blonde’s lips. “i’m sorry, but i don’t feel like doing this right now, az. turns out i’m asscheeks at basketball and i’m tired and my knee is giving out on me and i hate my life.”

“at least you’re hot.”

one blue eye finally opens. slowly, the apples of her cheeks start to form, and although her mouth is still hidden in her pillow, azzi knows that the older girl is smirking.

“you think i’m hot?”

“alright, don’t let it get to your head,” azzi scoffs. her palm smoothes over the wrinkles in paige’s hoodie as she starts long, slow scratches on her back over the hoodie. paige softens almost immediately at her touch, the wrinkle in her forehead relaxing and shoulders loosening.

“you love having all my attention, hm?” azzi teases. to her surprise, paige doesn’t deny it, merely tugging azzi down on the bed to face her. she looks at the younger girl, not quite smiling, but not frowning either.

“ice said you were being an ass to her,” azzi says after a beat of silence.

“i was being an ass to you too.”

“you threw a sock at her.”

a smile tugs at the corner of paige’s lips. “well.”

azzi tugs at her ear. “you’re like a toddler when you’re mad.”

“nuh uh.”

“throwing a tantrum then you get some cuddles and you’re happy again.”

“swear i’m gonna kick you out of this room, azzi,” paige threatens.

azzi only smiles, continuing to stroke her arm with her nails. “let’s get some ice cream,” she suggests.

“not hungry,” the older girl grunts, slamming her face back into her pillow.

azzi stands up and grabs her wallet. “well, i want ice cream. either you come with me or i’ll go myself. alone. at 11 pm. at night.”

paige swears under her breath and follows her. in the elevator, she presses against azzi, leaning her entire body weight on her like she knows she’ll be supported. her hands dig into azzi’s hips as if to make sure she’s real, that she’s there, that she’s hers. azzi tucks the moment into her heart—as much as she gives her shit for it, she loves when paige is acts like a baby around her. humming, the younger girl runs a hand through her hair. “you smell good,” paige murmurs quietly.

“yeah?”

“you always do.” paige’s nose brushes her jaw lazily, then her cheek, then her hair as she plants a kiss on her earlobe. her body is heavy against azzi’s, but it’s grounding, and she can almost fall asleep like that, with legs intertwined and fingers tangled together in the dim lighting of a cold, moving machine. when the elevator dings on the ground floor, they linger, neither wanting to pull away first.

at the store, azzi doesn’t miss the way the cashier’s gaze falls on paige’s abs. azzi doesn’t know what possesses her—or maybe what she’s possessive of—but when paige finishes paying, she turns and kisses the blonde’s face as thank you, lips lingering on her cheek. paige looks at her curiously—azzi is never one to show pda, but she welcomes it, her hand moving to its familiar spot on azzi’s lower back and brushing the sliver of skin between her top and shorts.

paige hops on a stool, pulling azzi in with her legs as her hands work their way into the pockets of azzi’s hoodie. azzi feeds her a spoonful of ice cream, and paige nods in satisfaction. rocky road had been the way to go. “see? not so grumpy anymore,” the dark haired girl says smugly, pinching her cheek.

“i wasn’t even grumpy. i was just thinking,”

azzi wipes away a smear of chocolate from paige’s mouth, the pad of her thumb trailing her bottom lip for longer than necessary. “what were you thinking about?”

“how i gotta hit the gym more.” paige abruptly stands up, dodging having to give an actual answer. the disappointment in her best friend’s eyes is hard to ignore. “the team’s in nika’s room. let’s go.”

/

paige can push aside her ego to admit a lot of things, but she’s never been a pussy ass bitch. honestly, she’s never found a reason not to be confident. she’s awesome at basketball, has a chill group of friends, is decent in school, and she certainly doesn’t spend so much time staring in a mirror because she’s ugly.

so she’s not sure why the fuck she feels so nervous right now. like, it’s azzi. azzi, whose been her best friend for years now. azzi, who she knows like the back of her hand. azzi, who she can totally let her guard down around. azzi, who’s also on her lap, ass pressed to her thighs, and smelling way too good.

and it’s like she jinxes herself, because azzi leans back, shifting to make herself comfortable, and paige has to bite down on her lip to stop herself from groaning. her fingers flex on azzi’s thighs, squeezing the muscle there for a brief second before sidling a little higher, just brushing up the hem of her shorts before they’re slapped away.

“paige,” azzi hisses, eyes darting nervously around the room.

“sorry,” paige mumbles, not feeling really sorry at all.

from across the room, nika eyes them. “thought this was team bonding, not team fondling,” she snickers to amari, and the entire team doubles over in laughter like it’s the funniest fucking joke they’ve ever heard.

“yo, paige, let us know when it’s our turn for lap time,” aaliyah adds, and by now the girls are howling.

sending a death glare to dorka, who’s wiping tears from her eyes, azzi pointedly slides off paige’s lap and into the opposite end of the couch with a resolute harrumph. she might as well be miles away, and paige’s fingers flex this time around empty space. “i hate y’all,” the younger girl mutters.

paige tries to catch her eye, to make a gesture of apology, but azzi stares straight at the tv, throat bobbing and cheeks faintly pink. damn. paige should’ve accepted evina’s offer of a blanket when she had the chance. not that that would’ve stopped azzi from pushing away wandering hands, but still. at least it would’ve saved them the humiliation of three seconds prior.

as paige watches the movie, she resists the urge to turn her head and watch the girl beside her instead. she wonders if azzi misses her as much as she misses azzi. it’s silly, she knows, especially because the feeling of missing someone has become so familiar to her—so familiar that she knows, logically, that missing someone is supposed to be reserved for distance and miles of separation. not for someone who’s not sitting right next to you. but still, there’s a deep sort of yearning in her that slows the beat of her heart, making it hard to focus on anything but her.

she sighs. deciding to hopefully distract herself and get a snack, she gets up and heads to the kitchen. upon return, azzi’s snuggled into a thick wool blanket, eyes low and heavy with sleep despite her blinking efforts to stay awake. paige glares at the blanket a little, because what has it done to deserve being wrapped all up in azzi? then she realizes she might be going insane for getting jealous of a blanket. she swallows, gently thumbing away a tendril that’s escaped from her bun before returning reluctantly to her own cushion.

azzi shifts behind her as the couch dips. “you cold?” she murmurs. paige shakes her head; she’s wearing three layers and is actually starting to feel a little too warm, but then azzi sends her a meaningful look.

paige’s eyes widen. “super cold,” she backtracks. “who turned up the ac so high? because i’m freezing in here.” she grabs the other half of azzi’s blanket and dramatically pulls it over herself. then she shivers hard to really sell it, but all she gets is a weirded out glance from amari and azzi rolling her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching.

paige stares steadily at the screen again, and her well practiced nonchalance quickly rewards her when she feels fingers hiking up the sleeve of her sweater and landing on her palm. agonizingly gentle, azzi traces feather light patterns into her callouses and the grooves of her fingers, and paige feels weak in the head. someone is literally just touching her hand, and paige is already a bitch. god.

azzi’s shoulder bumps into hers. “stop blushing,” she whispers, warm breath fanning over her cheek before she pulls away with shining eyes. “you’re giving us away.”

“i’m not blushing,” paige says defiantly, although her face is so warm it feels like it’s on fire.

“okay,” azzi says disbelievingly, a smirk on her lips that paige so desperately wants to kiss off. wait, what?

as her heart pounds from holding azzi’s hand under the blanket, such an act of intimacy that seems so trivial but is so sacred between just the two of them, a simple way of feeling each other’s touch as a reassuarance from all the complicated things left unsaid, paige realizes that maybe it’s not normal to feel this way around your so called best friend. oh.

[redd-blushing-roses]

Kisses for Extra Loving

word count: 4.9k

pairing: (pre civil war)Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: while hiding from HYDRA, you get a serious infection. Bucky has to come to terms with his feelings and finally make a move.

warnings: angst to fluff; some gross infection descriptions and being sick. nothing too overwhelming.

notes: hello! I barely finished this, but I really wanted to get it out. I haven't had any injury get seriously infected, so I don't know how accurate this is, but I have had some nasty scrapes which had some pretty gross healing processes. for more context you can read this fic which came before, but feel free to read as a one shot if you'd like!

enjoy reading :)

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The payphone is grimy and your lip curls in disgust as you shift your feet, trying to avoid the mysterious stain at the bottom of the booth. You remind yourself you’re the one who wanted to make the call, insisting to Bucky you had to, despite his protest. 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, the international dial tone still ringing in your ear as the line connects, Bucky’s broad shoulders leaning against the glass. He’s sporting a dark blue baseball cap, a large brown jacket and his pack; his gloved hands were folded in front of him, tense as he always was. 

He catches you staring out of the corner of his eye and he gives you a small smile. You return it, wiggling your fingers in a wave.

“Hello?” A female voice crackles on the other side of the line.

“Hi Nat.” It’s quiet for a beat. Maybe she didn’t recognize your voice.

“It’s me.”

At the sound of your name, you hear Natasha sigh. 

“Do I even want to know where you are right now?”

“Somewhere safe, I promise.” You feel an itch at the top of your thigh, and shifting the phone in your hand, you scratch at it over your jeans. “I’m sorry about the apartment.” 

You were sure she was shocked when she had returned to the apartment she had loaned you, blood staining the kitchen, her window shattered and table smashed to bits. It was too bad your line of work didn’t come with a cleaning crew.

“It’s alright. It was never something I’d call home. Besides, Stark has us staying in the tower full time now. Egyptian cotton is addicting.” You laugh. 

“Those Ikea cotton sheets I bought weren't all that bad.” It’s her turn to laugh. Your heart pulls, and you realize now how much you missed the sound.

“No. To be honest, they were cuter too.” You hear something clatter in the background, male voices arguing. LOUDLY.

“Steve, it was never about Luke killing the Emperor. Vader was the chosen one.” 

“But they’re the space Nazis, are they not?”

“And you were a much better roommate,” Natasha whispers.

“I knew you loved me.” You itch your thigh again, moving to take your red scarf off. It was getting hot in the booth.

A loud knock startles you, the sound echoing in the booth. You turn to Bucky, brows quirking with question. He taps his watch, encouraging you to speed up the call. You hold up a finger, mouthing you’d be just a minute more. 

“Anyway,” you sigh. “I just wanted to apologize, let you know I was alright.”

Natasha was quiet for a moment.

“You’re not by yourself, are you?”

“No. I’m back on the babysitting job.” 

You can practically hear the gears of her brain turning through the phone. When you had first gone into hiding, you had told Natasha you’d found a babysitting job. It was partially true, you had been watching over Bucky while he recuperated. And she had bought it.

Though now, after you’d shown up bloody on her doorstep and left in a similar manner, Natasha was sure to have figured out it wasn’t any normal babysitting job. She was smart.

“Alright. But if you find the tantrums too much, just call, okay. I’ll personally steal one of Tony’s suits and come get you. No matter where you are.” The pointedness of her voice was enough to confirm her growing suspicion. 

“Okay Nat. I promise I’ll call if things get out of hand. Say hi to Steve for me.”

“I will. Love you.” She says it in a singsong voice and you laugh again.

“Love you too.” 

The line disconnects and you hang the phone up, ready to get out of the grimy booth. God, it was hot in there.

You tap on the glass, and Bucky turns, opening the door for you. You step out onto the street, the cool breeze of the European spring refreshing after the stuffy booth. 

“Did your call go okay?” Bucky asks, handing you your backpack. You nod as you slide it on, following him as he begins to walk down the cobblestone street.

“It was good. Sounded like everything was alright on her end.” The sky is a bright blue above you and you squint at the sun glinting through the small clouds. “Steve sounded like he was doing well.” Bucky looks at you, surprised.

“You talked to him?”

“No, but I heard him. Are you ever going to reach out? I know he’s looking for you.” 

Bucky shook his head. He didn’t say anything for a while, the two of you walking up the hilly street, past the colorful shops and busy market stalls. 

You stop at an intersection, waiting for the walk sign to turn green.

“I don’t think I’m ready to see him again,” he finally says, crossing his arms as he looks at you. “Not yet.”

You nod, understanding. It was a lot to take in, to find out your best friend was still alive after almost 70 years. And not only that but you had tried to kill him the last time you’d been together. 

“It’s okay. I’m sure when you are ready, he’ll understand why you waited.” 

You pulled at your sweater, the collar itching your neck. Sweat dripped down your back. 

Bucky eyed you as you pulled your hand away from your neck to scratch at your thigh again. The itch was beginning to sting painfully and you did your best to ignore it, your adrenaline spiking as a thought entered your head. 

You knew beneath your jeans lay the still healing knife wound. It was over a month old and the stitches had mostly healed, but after the last fight you had gotten into with HYDRA agents two weeks ago, the wound had been reopened. 

Bucky had helped you close it up again, redoing the stitches as you had sat in a bathroom stall, biting down his hat as the needle went in and out of the skin. 

But you chose to ignore the red swelling which had crept up your leg the last couple of days. You couldn’t deal with an infection now, couldn’t let yourself be debilitated when you had to keep moving.

“Hey, you okay?” Bucky leaned down lower to your level, his blue eyes full of concern. You look around and realize you had spaced out, missing the chance to cross the street. A bead of sweat fell down from your hairline. 

“I’m fine.” You smiled. “Just spaced out, sorry.” 

Bucky didn’t look convinced. 

------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, you shivered beneath your blanket, the hard mattress cold beneath you. Sharp, hot pain radiated up your leg, and despite how warm you felt, you still had goosebumps running up your arms, your teeth chattering without pause. 

After the phone booth, you had gone to a cafe for lunch, watching Bucky as he ate his sandwich and then polished off the second half of your sandwich, your stomach churning. 

You’d slipped into your room when you’d come home to the bare apartment, telling Bucky you’d take a nap. 

Now you sat up, your stomach turning again, body wracked with shivers. You mentally cursed.

You really should have taken a look at your leg earlier. You got up off the floor with a groan, moving slowly, as if your body had turned into sludge. 

You quietly limp to the small bathroom in the hall, glancing towards the living room as you pass it, Bucky splayed out on the floor, reading a book. The bathroom door shuts quietly behind you and you stand for a moment, leaning against the cold mirror as your head pounds. 

You eventually work up the courage to peel off your jeans, wincing as the fabric slides down your bandaged wound. You open a drawer and take out the medical kit, using the scissors inside to cut open the gauze. 

You practically wretch when you look at it, red puckered flesh pulsating with your heartbeat. You stumble and sit on the toilet, throwing the pus covered gauze away in disgust. You lean closer to inspect the wound. 

The original stitches had healed without much trouble, the upper part of the wound now a pink scar. But the lower half was still a purplish red, the part where the torn flesh stitched to meet was leaking with watery liquid, the muscle beneath twitching. And the smell-

You grabbed the trash can beside you and vomited, throwing up your sandwich and breakfast. Your ears pounded with the pressure in your head, eyes tearing up from the different parts of your body currently aching. You swallow, hands shaking, wanting to call out for Bucky, but not wanting him to see you like this. 

You sob, hand coming up quickly to stifle the sound. The pounding sound is in your ears again, your senses overwhelmed as you continue to cry. 

“Hey. Come on, open the door.” 

Bucky’s voice is muffled and your eyes widen as you realize he’s been knocking on the bathroom door for the past minute. 

You try to speak, try to get up and open the door to let him in, scared to be alone any longer. But the effort to stand sends pain shooting up your side. Nothing comes out of your mouth except a loud and wet sob. 

Bucky mutters from the other side of the door. 

You hear his metal hand grip the handle, a popping sound following a loud snap. 

He’s broken off the door handle. 

The door swings open and Bucky stands there, taking in your snot and pus filled state, tears streaming down your eyes, your infected thigh on full display. 

He drops the book he was holding, taking a step towards you cautiously. 

“Buck-” you croak between sobs. 

You barely register the moment he stops standing and when he starts holding you, cradling your head as you cry into his chest. It wasn’t much, but it would be a tenderness you'd have to be content with.

He didn’t run his hand through your hair like you wanted. 

Didn’t wipe away your tears or say he was sorry.

Didn’t kiss your forehead or give you comforting words.

Instead he told you to sit there, running a bath, his brows furrowed. He’d come back from the kitchen, a cup of salt water in hand and a towel. 

“This is going to hurt,” he told you, and you bit down on your shirt, crying out as he poured the solution onto the wound, the skin bubbling and stinging.

Bucky helped you out of your clothes, his eyes distant as he helped you into the bath, never quite looking at you. When your temperature didn’t drop, he helped you out again and into clean clothes, a large shirt and shorts. When you asked why he didn’t bandage your leg, he told you it was better to let it breathe, to let the infection air out.

You lay on the hard mattress, covering yourself with a blanket. Bucky pressed a cold washcloth to your forehead, a deep frown etched into his features.

You looked up at him from your position. He seemed so angry, and you felt terrible you hadn’t mentioned the state of your leg. It was all your fault.

“I’m sorry,” you shivered, still trying to get your body to regulate its temperature. 

Bucky just shook his head. 

“You should have told me…” his voice trails off, eyes still glued to you.

He stayed a moment longer and then left the room in a rush. You didn’t know what hurt more. 

The fact that for a moment, you had hoped he’d bridge the strange barrier between you and provide you comfort you’d been longing for; or the fact he seemed so angry with you for not telling him you were hurting. 

Your mind toyed with these thoughts. As much as you wished he'd admit his feelings, you had to be content with the emotions he did share with you. HYDRA had done a number on him.

On the both of you.

But just because you were patient didn't mean it wasn't painful.

You fell asleep on the mattress surrounded by your pain and anxiety, a final warm tear slipping down your cheek as you drifted off.

------------------------------------------------------

Bucky stood in the small pharmacy, his boot tapping against the white tile. His eyes darted from bottle to box, the shelves lined with all kinds of medicine and antibiotics, but not the kind he needed. 

He finally selects a box, reading the contents quickly and stuffs it into the basket he’s holding, already filled with a bottle of orange juice, a packet of chocolate wafers, cans of chicken soup, more medical gauze, and tylenol. 

Why hadn’t you told him about your leg?

The question had been thrown about his brain ever since he left you in the room, still crying and shivering from the fever. Bucky had felt bad leaving you there, but if he didn’t get you something to combat the infection it would only get worse. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. He had just got you back.

Maybe you blamed him. 

Bucky blamed himself. He was angry he hadn’t caught the warning signs of infection.

He felt responsible to take care of you. And maybe it was because he'd always had the innate desire to watch over you, only enhanced by the HYDRA programming he'd been given. Or maybe it was because he felt like he owed you. You had watched over him for so many months, and he wanted to return the favor.

Besides, by technicality, it was his fault your leg was torn up. 

Bucky tried to block out the other thought rising in the back of his mind. 

Maybe you hadn’t told him because you didn't trust him. 

It was probable. You’d spent years by his side during your time in HYDRA, always on edge, fingers twitching near your gun in enclosed spaces.

But even amidst your distrust, even after HYDRA had wiped him over and over, trying to erase you from his mind, you always lingered. Most of his memories of you were spotty. Damaged from all the wiping.

But the same thing always remains. Your eyes, sad yet kind. Observant. Evaluating.

Despite everything, he remembers how you were the only one who cared.

Bucky paid for the items and grabbed the plastic bag, hurrying down the now darkened streets. 

When he enters the small apartment again, sweaty from running, he hears your moaning from the other room. Your body is shaking against the mattress, sweat covering every inch of you, shivers wracking your body.

As painful as it looked, he knew it was a good sign. 

It meant you were still fighting. 

Bucky pulls out the tylenol and shakes out a couple pills. He comes by your side, coaxing you to open your eyes. 

“Here, take this.” You blink up at him from under the blanket, exhaustion written in your features. “It’ll help you feel better.”

You can barely sit up, but he supports you, helping you to drink the water and watching as you swallow the pills. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, shaking against his side. He holds you for a minute, but lets go faster than he'd like, sliding you back onto the mattress. 

Bucky sits beside you, pained by the sight of you. He remains there for the better part of the night, providing you with fresh cold wash cloths and making you sip water and orange juice every so often. For the most part, he just sits there, watching you toss and turn, your body fighting off the infection. 

Bucky wished he would reach out and hold you, lay there and encase your body with his.

He wished he would kiss your forehead and trace lines across the faint freckles on your face. He wished he could take your pain away.

He wished he had the words to tell you it was alright, to reassure you everything would be better. Instead he remained silent. 

------------------------------------------------------

Bucky awoke with a start, his back aching from falling asleep awkwardly against the wall. He looks over at you, still laying on the mattress. Your body was so still, and for a moment he panics.

He leans over, gently rolling you over onto your back. 

Your hair is splayed out against the pillow and he’s reminded of an animated movie he had seen before he’d left for the war. 

What was the name of the movie? 

With the princess who died… no she lived but she had been in a death like sleep…

The name finally came to him. Snow White.

Bucky had taken his sister to see it. He remembered it now; how Rebecca had cried when she saw the princess in the coffin. Bucky had bought her an ice cream after to make her feel better.

He had found it strange how a kiss could have cured the princess. If only life were so similar.

You looked so similar, skin pale, lips parted with quiet breath, eyelashes not even fluttering with sleep. You looked dead. 

And it scared him. 

Bucky now regrets not holding you or telling you it would be okay. 

Bucky regrets not telling you how he wished he had kissed you back.

The moment he had felt your lips on his cheek two weeks ago, soft and warm, the smell of mint lingering from your lip balm, he had felt as though his heart would explode. He hadn’t been kissed by a girl in… 

Well, he didn’t know exactly how long. But he knew that this was different. It wasn’t the rush of adrenaline or the thrill of being the guy everyone looked up to. 

Look how many girls were in line to kiss him as he’s sent off to war. Sergeant James Barnes.

Maybe it was the attachment he had formed to you after being abused and tortured for so long. For years all he knew was isolation and violence, a never ending cycle of killing between dreams.

And then there was you. His memory of you is blurry, half destroyed between HYDRA wiping his mind constantly when it came to you. 

But he remembered clearly how you had offered your hand to him in the safe house, after he had fought with Captain America, after he had ran from the river, leaving behind the carnage and chaos of battle. 

He remembers your eyes, curious, fearful and kind. He remembers how you comforted him, how you had told him it would be alright. 

And then you had kissed him. Even though you had been injured and you were in pain, you had kissed him because you cared. 

Bucky would be lying if he said he didn’t care about you. He wasn't just attracted to you- for goodness sake he had risked being captured going back to you.

If that wasn't love-

And now he sat here, his hand hovering over your forehead, heart overflowing with guilt and grief. He was already imagining losing you. He didn’t want that blood on his hands. Not without letting you know how much you meant- 

“Hey,” he shook your shoulder. “Hey come on get up. You’ve got to get up.”

Bucky leans in as you groan, mumbling something unintelligible. 

“Come on, I know it hurts but we have to get you better.” 

You crack your eyes open as he says your name, your iris’ a dull shade of their usual vibrant color. Bucky can feel his heart sinking as you mouth a word. He asks you to repeat it, leaning in close, his ear so close he can feel the barely there whisper tickle his ear.

“James.”

It’s enough to send him into a frenzy. Bucky stands and leaves the room, going to draw you another bath, determination set into his face. 

He wouldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. There was so much to say, and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t choosing not to run. 

------------------------------------------------------

Your senses come back slowly, no longer overstimulated by the heat of fever and the pain of your leg. 

The first thing you notice is the light behind your closed eyelids, and as you blink awake, you see an open window above you, early morning sun spilling in between the gauzy curtains. 

How long had you been out for? 

The last concrete memory you had was sitting in the bathroom crying, holding onto Bucky like he was a life line. Everything after and between was a strange dream- 

The feeling of being slid into a porcelain tub, the water cool against your skin. 

Calloused fingers running through your hair, holding your hand.

The taste of orange juice on your tongue and the unsavory taste of medicinal cherry.

There’s the sound of a voice, deep yet soft. But the words are lost to you.

The second thing you notice is the large body next to you. 

Your eyes slide to your right, and latch onto Bucky passed out next to you, his body splayed out on his stomach, half on the twin sized mattress, his legs and waist dangling on the hard floor.

He can hardly be comfortable. 

His right hand is hovering next to your own hand, fingers tensed slightly, as if he were reaching for something in a dream. As if he'd been holding your hand.

You lift your head gently, no longer feeling the pressure of fever or headache. Bucky must have moved the mattress into the living room at some point; the room littered with tissues and bowls. His book is crunched up beneath his foot, a bottle of orange juice and medicine resting on the floor besides your left leg.

You sit up and lean closer, inspecting your leg. The wound was still red, but it no longer oozed pus or smelled like death. Your fingers brush beside the damaged skin, the stitches looking much cleaner and knit together. 

The infection must have passed. 

Bucky stirs beside you, muttering something sleepily.

You take in the room once more and realize he must have taken care of you while you were out of it. It was obvious now: the medicine, the mattress, the fact Bucky was laying next to you. 

A smile worms its way onto your face as you lean closer to his face, fingers brushing a stray piece of hair out of his face. His hand grabs yours faster than you can blink, his eyes opening wide as they come into focus.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you. You looked like you could use a few more minutes.” Bucky sits up, breath quickening. He stares at you. 

You’re taken aback for a second, the seriousness in his eyes making your smile fall. You had forgotten. Maybe he really was mad.

But the thought leaves your head just as quickly as it had appeared when Bucky gently puts down your hand, his palm coming up to touch your cheek. It was surprising and you can’t help yourself as you lean into it.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispers. He nods his head in the direction of your healing leg, “for a minute there, I wasn’t sure…” Bucky goes quiet and he clears his throat.

“I wasn’t sure if it would get better. But I remembered something my Ma had said about sunshine and company, about how anything can be healed as long as it’s cared for.”

“Sunshine and company?” He shakes his head, a crooked grin cracking on his face, the rare one which always made your heart race.

“Don’t ask, I can’t even remember the whole saying. But look," he says, tapping your leg. "On the track to a full recovery.”

It explained why the mattress had been moved to the window, the morning sun now shining brightly on both of your heads, the rays of light haloing your head like a crown. 

“Well thank you.” You scratch the back of your neck, looking around the messy room. “How long was I out.”

“Two days.”

“Ah. Two days and it looks like a tornado swept through here.” Bucky looks around the room with you. “Makes me wonder what would have happened if I was out for any longer.” You chuckle, but Bucky doesn’t laugh. 

“Any longer and I don’t know what I would do with myself.” Your eyes slide back to his. You’re overwhelmed by the emotions flickering on his face. Sadness. Longing. Hope. Yearning. 

“James,” you start, confusion written in the way your brows furrow.

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He licks his lips and tries again, but still, the words are stuck on his tongue. He pulls back from you with a frustrated groan, his palm sliding down his face. 

“Why is this so hard-”

“Why’s what-” Bucky stands and paces. You sit up, moving to the edge of the mattress carefully, watching him. 

“I don’t remember this being so hard.”

“What Buck?” He looks at you and then away, arms crossed with nervousness. He swallows thickly, his ears going red.

“Confessing to a girl.”

oh. OH. 

He wanted to confess. To you. You can’t help it as the laugh escapes your mouth, the sound ringing through the apartment. Bucky looks like he wishes he could climb into a hole and you watch as his face falls. 

You immediately feel bad, realizing he must have mistaken your laugh as a sign you thought his feelings were not reciprocated. Oh god, he must feel awful.

The one person who’s showed him an ounce of kindness amidst all the torture and abuse, who despite his reluctance and aggression, continued to show up for him, and you laughed. 

After his fear of hurting you every time you held his hand, after finally showing he cared and not being shy about sharing a part of himself he thought was long gone, and you laughed.

“No Buck-”

“It’s fine.” He backs away, chewing his cheek, eyes clouded and sad. “I should have known… with everything I’ve done. I just thought-”

“James,” you stand, wobbling on your feet. You put pressure on your leg, moving towards Bucky, hand reaching out for his tall frame.

Bad idea. 

After two days of not moving a muscle, your leg quickly gives out and you’re falling. 

Bucky is quick to catch you, his super enhanced reflexes always a surprise to you. He grips your waist gently, supporting you enough to help you stand. 

“I shouldn’t have laughed, I’m sorry. It’s just… you and me,” you gesture with your pointer finger, pointing between your chests, “I thought maybe it was just me who had caught feelings. And I didn’t want to say anything because of everything that happened. I didn’t want to put that pressure on you.”

Bucky gives you a soft smile, looking upwards as he takes in your words. 

“It’s why when I kissed you, I didn’t expect anything. Because I wanted it to be your choice.

“My choice?”

“Yeah. Whether you wanted to kiss me back or not.” 

“You wanted me to kiss you?” His brows furrow, fingers flexing against your back. You laugh again, and this time he chuckles along with you. “Wait, you wanted me to-”

“James Barnes, you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

He rolls his eyes.

“Listen, I’m lucky I can even be having a full conversation now.” Bucky smiles at you, that cute lopsided close-lipped smile he gives. Your smile dampens, and your face gets serious. 

“I know. I think about it all the time.” You notice a strand of Bucky’s hair falling onto his face and you brush it to the side with your fingers. His eyes watch you, clearer now than you’ve ever seen them. 

Bucky brings you closer to him, careful to place himself so he wouldn’t rub up against your wounded leg. He was so close, closer than you’d ever been with him. 

You can feel your heart beating as if you were running a marathon. And when Bucky speaks again, it’s your turn to blush.

“I can hear your heart.” You look away, the smile on your face beginning to hurt. Still supporting you with his metal hand, he takes his right hand and cups your cheek, turning your face back to look at him.

He leans in closer, his nose inches apart from yours. “I think I’d like to kiss you now.” Your breath shudders and you gather the courage to speak again. Bucky waits, his gaze focused, his touch gentle. 

“Kiss me then.” And he does. 

Bucky’s hand guides your face towards him, lips gently pressed against yours. Your eyes close as you melt into him. The kiss is gentle and soft and he pulls away quicker than you’d like. 

For a second, you wonder if it wasn’t good enough. Or maybe it was too much. 

You crack open your eyes to see he still has his closed, his chest contracting as he breathes hard. He’s remembering something. And when he opens his eyes he’s looking at you with an emotion you’ve never seen on his face. 

It softens his features, the curve of his mouth, the curve of his lashes as he looks down at you. His pupils are dilated, and he’s smiling shyly. It’s the face of the young man you’d come to see in glimpses, here, on full display.

“James?”

“Sunshine, company, and a kiss for extra loving. That’s what my ma used to say.”

You look at him, really look at him. His handsome face, the stubble growing on his chin and long hair, his blue eyes. Your eyes widen as you recognize the emotion, the one you had seen in your own eyes in the bathroom mirror.

It finally hits you why he brought up the saying.

"For extra loving?" Bucky gives you a smile.

"For loving." He kisses you again, deeper and longer.  Between the kisses he trails up your cheeks and down your neck, he whispers those three tiny words.

The ones which make you feel like you could fly."I love you."

You whisper it back as you kiss his jaw, smiling at the way his eyes grow glassy.

Your hands come up to grip Bucky’s hair and he moans into your mouth, a sound which makes your stomach flip with glee. He pulls you closer, arms tight around you, your bodies now flush to one another, and as he slips his tongue into your mouth-

“Ow.” 

He breaks apart quickly, eyes scanning you intently.

“What,” he breathes, lips red and swollen, cheeks red. “What, I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No,” you sigh, holding onto him as you shake your leg a little, trying to rid it of the stinging pain which shot up your leg when it had come into contact with Bucky’s jeans. “No, I’m alright.” 

Bucky nods, but doesn’t move in again.

Instead he guides you back down to the mattress, helping you sit. He sits by you and you hold his hand, his fingers tinged pink as they slide into yours. 

He looks content. Happy almost. 

Bucky doesn't say the words again, and you know he probably won't for a while. But he doesn't have to. Your content to let him take this at his own pace.

The sun is shining down on you both and you move to kiss him again. You wish you could capture how he lit up when he smiled.

The memory would be stitched in your heart forever.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, anal, suggestiveness & pressuring

fem reader

Thinking about really boyfriendly boyfriends – simpy and helpful and sweet – boyfriend material perfectly cut as if custom-ordered – boxed and shipped and sent express mail from the boyfriend factory with love.

He’s interested in your hobbies and studies and is equally passionate about sharing his interests with you. He’s comfortable and playful with your family and makes a true effort to befriend your friends. He’s even outgoing at parties where he doesn’t know anyone but you instead of sulking and asking you to leave like so many past boyfriends have.

He likes sharing food, sings loudly in the car, texts you throughout the day, and calls you when he’s at the store before coming over, asking if you need or want anything. He’s open and honest and geeks over new releases – that movie trailer, that game, those sneakers, that album, that car, and all that other boy stuff – and yet never fails to tell you how beautiful you are every time he sees you.

And he likes taking you on dates – cinema, arcade, roller rink, amusement park, road trips, picnics, beach days – or simply hanging out at his or your place – making food, binging a series in bed, kissing and dry-humping…

He’s just, all in all, everything you could’ve ever wished for. Perfect in every way.

Only… there hasn’t been a single time he’s had you in bed where he hasn’t all but begged to fuck your ass…

He’s literally crying for it while moaning, “Please~ lemme put it in~ just wanna try it once, please, baby~” with his hands squeezing your butt over your shorts and his head under your shirt, kissing and sucking your tits with the prayers on his lips as he humps his tented crotch against your clothed cunt – making your panties hot and damp. 

You squeeze your eyes shut with a suppressed whine.

He keeps pleading, “I’ll be gentle~ just the tip~ I’ll go so slow~”

His fingers dig into the crevice of your cheeks, wedging your shorts and undies through your slit. Everything clenches from the friction.

Your face is heated, biting your lip with cinched brows. You knew he’d ask for it again today – he never doesn’t. Even though he’ll get pussy-drunk and pound your poor womb in a tight mating press the second he’s made you cum on his fingers. 

He slurps your nipple, still begging, “Please, baby, please~ it’ll feel so good~ so-so-so good~”

You’d been deliberating giving in to his incessant proposals for a little while. He’d been so unrelenting you were starting to feel bad denying him for so long.

Not like past boyfriends hadn’t been equally relentless in the ask.

But this one was different… unlike the others… you really like him. 

You think you might be in love with him, even though it’s a little early to say.

Still… since he’s so perfect… you want to do your best to be perfect for him, too.

So you’d made yourself ready for it this time – done preparations in the shower. 

But… you pout… it was all so embarrassing, and your poor mind was riddled with doubts as though you were a virgin all over again. 

What if something… gross happens? What if it hurts so bad you have to stop? Will it disappoint him? What if you hate it but go through with it anyway, only for him to keep asking? What if you have to break up because you won’t ever be able to look him in the eyes again?

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” His voice slips through the inner turmoil.

He’d resurfaced from beneath your shirt on account of your silence, only to see you’d covered your face in both hands. He gently peels them away – revealing your eyes and the shy way you nibble your lip.

“I’m sorry…” He apologizes then. “I’ll stop asking-” 

“No!” You blurt. To his surprise – staring at you with those big puppy-dog eyes you just couldn’t handle seeing look so disheartened. “I mean…” 

You look away, cheeks burning – voice just barely above a whisper. 

“If you really want to… I’m fine with it…”

He seemed to perk up at that. If he’d had a tail, you know it would be wagging behind him. 

His chest swelled, eyes big and unblinking, swallowing thickly – breaths already thick with containment. 

He leans in close and nose-kisses you, brushing your lips with heated words, “Really? You’ll let me?”

You made a small sound, too humiliated to say or do much more than nod your head in confirmation.

He seemed to shudder, closing the space between you, kissing your lips softly – he tasted like static – buzzing with restricted urgency. Parting with a soft-spoken yet strained, “Thank you.”

Both his hands messaged your waist – fiddled with the band to your shorts as though he couldn’t wait to drag them down your thighs and free you.

Still speaking against your lips, “Can you turn around on your knees for me?”

Everything was burning – from the tips of your ears to your lips and deep down in your stomach where something equally hungry and anxious was preparing for something.

He moved back to allow you to crawl into position, taking a pillow and placing it underneath you – patting it while telling you to “Lie down.” 

You did like suggested, lying with your face and chest against the soft plume, sinking into it with your back in a slope and your ass presented. Heart pounding in your head, loud and hot, as he took position behind you – placing his hand back on your hips.

He hooked his fingers into the band of your shorts again, pulling them back over the fat of your haunches, then dragged them down slowly until they pooled around your knees. You felt the damp heat of his breath immediately hit the peach fuzz on the small of your back – seeping through the cotton of your panties – making your belly brew with butterflies. 

“Just relax, okay? Tell me to stop if I go too far.” He said, sensing how you quaked as he placed both palms on your globes – denting the plump flesh with greedy fingers.

It’s not like you haven’t fucked in this position before – it’s just that you knew this time was going to be different. You felt so exposed.

He fingered the frill of your panties and started peeling them off – baring your naked skin and the pretty dip between your cheeks. 

You yelped. His mouth was on you before he’d even finished undressing you – placing a sloppy half-bite half-kiss on your upper ass before proceeding to slurp the crack.

You whimpered – flustered and flushed as the heat of his tongue laid wet trails down through the valley until his lips met with your rim. You shuffled your thighs and balled the pillow in small fists as he groaned into you. Shamelessly squeezing your fat with his hands, spreading the cheeks to let him at your little puckered hole.

Your eyes screwed shut while you hid your face in the pillow beneath you – muffling all uneasy sounds as he canted his mouth against your ass. Chin rutting into your puffy cunt while bobbing his jaw, lipping at your taint and rim – nose nuzzled between your cheeks – mouth fully closed around you – moaning at the feel of it pulsing on the tip of his tongue as he runs it over the tight scrunch again and again.

Your shoulders brace as he tries and screw the wet muscle inside. You tense up way too tight for it to happen.

He smacks off with a raunchy sigh. Your heart is in your throat. 

Slick from your ignored cunt feels sticky on your swelled pussy-lips – hot and twitching in the cool air.

He pops the cap of the little bottle of lube the two of you always keep on hand. You flinch when his slick fingers come back to rub your hole. He gives it slow and soothing circles before easing the tip inside. Filling you up only to the first joint, waiting for you to relax and loosen before sinking the rest inside. 

He hums at the display, groaning, “Fuuh-ck~” Sliding the digit in knuckle-deep before slipping it out to the tip again – repeating the motion while feeling your muscles ripple around it. “You’re so cute, baby~ so pretty~”

He bows and places a chaste kiss on your buttcheek, laying his face on it like a pillow – his eyes half-mast while looking at his finger disappear inside you.

He works another in with the first, shuffling them – messaging the tightness, slowly training it to stretch. His hot breath fans over your wet skin, making you go goosefleshed.

“Fuck, baby – so pretty with my fingers inside yah~” He hums, almost in a whine while curling them inside you. “So fucking hot how you swallow and squeeze on ‘em like that~”

He pulls himself up again, tugging on his belt with one hand – keeping on fingering you with the other. 

His pants drop to the floor a moment later, and he lifts his neglected cock out of the sticky mess he’d made in his boxers – throbbingly fat and hard, pulsing in his fist and leaking pre, another pearl each time he rubs over the bulge of his tip.

He looks at your hole – eyes misty. You seem to have loosened up a bit – enough for him to part his fingers.

He pulls them both out with a schlick. “I think you’re ready…” His voice is sticky – stuck to his throat. “I’m gonna try ‘n put it in.”

Your hands curl into the pillow as you nod your head – eyes still squeezed shut. It hadn't felt too bad so far – just weird. Embarrassing and… clinical. A bit like a doctor’s visit. But you knew that would all change now.

His hands glide across your back, catching your crop top in balled fists, stretching it as his tip works on stretching out your opening – nudging against it, coaxing it into accepting the head.

“Fuh- oh fuck~” He moans, lost to the sight and feel of your butt seizing around him – closing up around his tip. 

You look so fucking perfect like that – face-down and kneeling with your ass pressed back against him – giving him your second virginity. 

His eyes flitter across the slope of your spine – looking over your creamy skin, looking so pretty, all glossy with dew, until he reaches your face. Your brows are pinched together, gnawing on your bottom lip, eyes shut tightly.

“Are you okay?” He pants.

You nod your head – curt and rushed.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You’re so perfect, so good to him – the best girlfriend he could have ever asked for. Trusting him like this, letting him do this even when you’re so nervous about it. You must really love him.

He’s nearly crying, holding onto your hips as he fucks you with just the tip – loosening the rim up and going just a little deeper for every shallow thrust. He nearly barrels over, standing there with his back hunched – bowing his head, looking at where the two of you connect while sweat drips from his weighted bangs.

“I love you, too.” He confesses out of the blue, and you blink, looking back at him – seeing his mouth parted with blissful moans, his eyes wet, and brows softly curled. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect fo’me – so good.” 

He loves you so much he can barely take the blossoming in his chest, feeling like he wants to eat you up and swallow you whole. His girl – who laughs at all his silly jokes and holds his hand everywhere you go and doesn’t tease him when he yelps and holds you close during horror movies. His perfect perky girlfriend – who lets him fuck you raw and cum inside, and now… even letting him fuck your tight round ass for the very first time.

He's almost all the way in now – just a few more thrusts, and you’ll have him swallowed down to the base with his balls pressed firmly against the puffy lips of your wet pussy.

“Fuh-uuck-” He breathes out again, gripping your hips tight as he bottoms out. 

He nearly cums right then, having to bite his lip to hold back – savoring how you ripple and squeeze him – so tight and firm.

You’re such a good girl taking him so well and so deep, lying so sweetly beneath him with your ass presented – letting him nestle his entire length inside you. Curling your toes all cutely as you adjust with only pretty girly mews leaving you.

You didn’t expect him to mount you. 

But he does. Now standing with his feet in the bed, squatting over you with his cock sinking balls deep in your ass. Freshly broken-in, it’s tight and firm and twitchy as though it’s confused as to why there's a big fat cock stretching it out. 

He can’t help but smile, perched on top of you – hands still hooked upon your hips for balance while he leans forward, settling even deeper. 

You moan, and it nearly drives him wild. Barely holding himself together as he pulls out – wishing he had something to bite into instead of his lip as he focuses on the way your firm walls clench on him, clinging to his shaft so tightly it’s hard pulling out despite the wetness – it’s so good he’s losing it. 

He’s taking his perfect girlfriend in her perfect ass. And it feels so fucking good his hands leave their grip on your hips as he slugs forward, bending over you until his chest presses into your back, and his head rests on top of yours, cheek to cheek – slinging both arms around you, putting you in a headlock – leaving you to do nothing else but pant, squished between his biceps and his cock kisses your guts. 

“Can’t believe I'm fucking your little ass, baby.” He rants breathlessly. “It's so tight and good, gripping me so fuckin’ hard.” Huffing and groaning with his back hunched as he curves into your butt as deep as he can – stuffing into you from behind slowly and carefully as though he’s savoring every single flutter of you hugging him.

He’s barely even pulling out – kneading as far as his cock can reach instead – cock-warming himself inside you.

“Fuck, baby – I can cum inside, right?” He whimpers against you, kissing the corner of your mouth with his tongue out.

You’re so squished beneath him you can only just wheeze out the word. “O-okay-”

“Oh- fuck, I love you.” He cries when he blows, squeezing you so tight you’re choking as he pumps pulse after pulse of thick hot cum deep inside you. “I love you, I love you- love you- love you so much- so fuckin’ much-”

And you don’t know if it’s the confession, the headlock, or the cum being pumped up your guts – but your clit’s pulsing and your cunt’s twitching even though it’s around nothing, gushing down your shaking thighs as your butt pushes itself flush against your boyfriend’s cock, clenching hard around it and milking him free of every drop.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Touya-Dabi, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Bokuto, Miya twins ♡ AOT – Armin ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei, Umemiya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

Revised version available here:

[xoxolaw]

if you would be so kind…. seongje x reader but she’s insanely dense??? like very nice and kind sorta dense. “aw you were watching me? good to know u care so much” and he’s lowkey tweakin out. she just thinks they friends for all of the time he spends around her until maybe he just has to get over his avoidance issues or something. anyways feel free to twist this however you want, thank you !!!

+ YOU CARE SO MUCH

in which seong-je can't help but feel frustrated due to how oblivious the sweet, dense girl he's hopelessly into is.

Geum Seong-je x reader

fluff

Seong-je had a rule. Three seconds.

If someone pissed him off for more than three seconds, they got dropped.

No hesitation. No exceptions.

People learned fast. Keep your eyes down. Don’t talk to him unless spoken to. Never test his patience.

And yet, here you were. Walking, talking, smiling proof that his rule had its limits.

“Seong-je!” you called from across the hallway, waving at him like he hadn’t just finished beating some second-year half to death behind the gym.

You didn’t even flinch when you saw the blood still on his knuckles.

“You’re bleeding,” you said, pulling a napkin from your bag.

“I know I’m bleeding.” He sneered, but his voice didn’t have its usual bite. “I like it that way.”

You just tilted your head, eyes soft. “Still, you’ll get it on your uniform.”

And then you were dabbing at his hand. Touching him.

He could’ve killed you for that.

He didn’t.

---

You weren’t like the people he surrounded himself with. You weren’t strong. Not by his standards. Not violent. Not cunning. Just stupidly kind.

And dense.

God, so dense.

When he made fun of you, you laughed.

When he skipped class to sit on the rooftop, you brought him snacks.

When he stared at you too long, too hard, too obviously—you’d just smile and say, “Good to know you care so much.”

Care?

He should’ve punched a wall.

He almost did.

Instead, he smoked. He watched. He loomed.

And you kept letting him.

---

The tipping point came on a Thursday.

You were in the courtyard, sitting on the grass with your legs tucked under you, reading something stupid—he could tell it was stupid by the way your face lit up at every page.

“Why do you always look so damn happy?” he said, dropping into the grass beside you without asking.

You blinked, surprised. “Am I not allowed?”

He smirked. “Most people have the decency to be miserable around me.”

You just shrugged. “You’re not that scary, Seong-je.”

He barked out a laugh. “Says the girl who saw me break a guy’s nose last week.”

“You were grinning like a maniac,” you said. “So I figured you were having fun.”

He stared at you. “You think this is a game to me?”

You tilted your head. “No. I think you like being strong. And I think you don’t know what to do when people aren’t scared.”

He blinked. For once, words failed him.

You smiled again, so gently, and went back to your book like you hadn’t just dismantled his entire persona with a casual sentence.

Seong-je lit a cigarette with shaking hands.

Three seconds.

Three seconds.

Three fucking seconds.

---

He started seeing you everywhere.

Not on purpose. He wasn’t following you.

(He was.)

You asked him to walk you to the bus stop once.

He said no.

Then did it anyway.

You offered to share your drink.

He said it was gross.

Then drank from the same straw.

He didn’t get it. You weren’t strong. You weren’t even interesting. But you made his chest feel like it was on fire every time you called his name like it meant something.

Like he was someone good.

And that pissed him off.

---

“You have no self-preservation,” he growled one afternoon, pinning some third-year to the wall after they grabbed your arm in the hallway.

You blinked up at him. “He just wanted help finding the music room.”

“He touched you.”

“So?”

“So I broke his nose.”

You knelt beside the bleeding guy, already pulling out tissues. “You really need to stop doing that.”

“Then stop letting people near you,” he snapped.

You looked up at him, confused. “But why?”

And that was it.

That was when something cracked.

He hauled you up by your wrist and dragged you into the empty stairwell. The door slammed behind you, echoing like gunfire.

“Are you stupid?” he snapped. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Doing what?” you asked, honestly bewildered.

He laughed—mean and bitter. “Acting like I’m just some school friend. Like I’m some loyal dog who follows you around because I’ve got nothing better to do.”

You blinked.

He stepped closer, voice low, dangerous. “You think I do all this—pick fights, skip class, smoke my nerves out, bleed for you—because I like being your emotional punching bag?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“You’ve got three seconds,” he hissed.

“Three seconds for what?”

“To tell me you know.”

You swallowed. “Know… what?”

He stared at you like he wanted to strangle you and kiss you at the same time.

“I want you,” he said, voice sharp as a blade. “And I don’t mean your sweet little friendship. I mean your time. Your body. Your attention. I want you, and I’m two seconds away from going insane if you keep pretending you don’t see it.”

Your breath hitched.

“I don’t do kindness,” he continued, almost panting now. “I don’t do softness. I break things. I like breaking things. But when you smile at me, I—”

He cut himself off.

Ran a hand through his hair. Laughed bitterly.

“And you’re still just staring.”

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I really didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered, backing off. “You do now.”

Silence.

Then you said, “I don’t know what to do with this.”

Seong-je’s jaw clenched.

He turned away, bracing a hand against the wall like it might keep him from doing something stupid—like yelling, or kissing you, or punching through the drywall.

“Then forget it,” he said, biting the words out like glass. “Pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I don’t want to pretend.”

His head snapped toward you.

You were still staring at him—eyes wide, voice soft, hands balled in the hem of your shirt like you didn’t know where else to put them.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” you repeated. “But I don’t want to ignore it either.”

He stared.

Waited.

Waited for the punchline.

Waited for you to laugh it off, the way you always did, like everything he did was just another joke in your day.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you stepped closer.

“Seong-je,” you said, carefully, “I’m… not good at this.”

“No shit.”

“But I don’t think you’re just some friend.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Then what the hell am I?”

You hesitated, cheeks coloring, fingers twitching at your sides. “Something… important?”

“Something important?” he echoed flatly.

You nodded.

His mouth twisted. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re terrifying,” you said, smiling faintly. “But I still sit with you. Still talk to you. Still bring you snacks.”

“I thought you were just stupid,” he muttered.

“Maybe I am.” You took another step forward. “But if you want me, and you’re not just messing with me, then maybe you should do something about it.”

His breath caught.

Then he laughed. Low. Dangerous.

“You think I haven’t been doing something about it?” he said, stepping into your space. “I’ve been holding myself back. Every damn day. You think restraint comes naturally to me?”

You didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because suddenly his hand was on your face, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

And for a second—just a second—the world froze.

Then he kissed you.

Not gently.

Not sweetly.

It was rough, like a warning, like he was staking a claim. Like he’d been starving and just found his first meal.

You gasped into it, hands flying to his jacket, unsure whether to push or pull, but he was already gripping your waist, dragging you closer until there was nothing between you but heat and breath and every unspoken thing.

When he pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded, lips parted, expression wild.

You were flushed, dazed, your fingers still curled in his shirt.

He smirked.

“There,” he said, voice hoarse. “That clear enough for you?”

You nodded, speechless.

But then, like always, you tilted your head and smiled.

“I still think you’re not that scary.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Too late,” you whispered.

And he laughed—actually laughed—before kissing you again, slower this time, like maybe three seconds would never be enough.

---

AUTHOR'S NOTE + MASTERLIST

Really enjoyed writing this request!!! I hope you enjoyed reading it as well!!

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒!

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ; cliches: situations or tropes that happen all the time. but this time, you might actually understand why people love them so much.

𝐟𝐭 ; itoshi rin, itoshi sae

𝐜𝐰 ; gn!reader, swearing, uhhh honestly just pure fluff

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 - 𝐀 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍

shit.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

you sighed, standing in front of your shoe locker and staring outside. you had stayed late to help out your teachers for a little bit, but now you see the pouring rain outside and that you were absolutely idiotic for deciding to stay behind.

and you had forgotten your umbrella at home too. truly a wonderful day today. your phone was basically dead as well, so you couldn’t even call anyone to pick you up. finally, you grit your teeth, flattened your shirt, and chose the final option.

time to walk back home.

you sighed, stepping out of the school and covering your head with your backpack. this was an ass decision, but no can do. your shoes stepped into puddle after pudding, and you could feel your socks getting wet. gross.

your backpack didn’t help with much, as you could feel raindrops sliding down your face. you almost wanted to scream; no train route went to your neighborhood, and your house would be a painful and rainy 10 minutes away without an umbrella.

you sighed again, ready to sit down and lean against a wall and stay there for the night.

until suddenly, the rain stopped.

actually, it didn’t. you could still smell the dew on plants, and you could still feel the sticky humidity. but now, you could also hear raindrops thumping against a surface. you looked up, and a clear umbrella floated above your head. but more importantly, in front of you stood itoshi rin.

“oh, uh, rin! hi. i didn’t know you stayed behind for school as well.” you stammered. you and rin were classmates, and though you’ve been with each other ever since kindergarten, you weren’t particularly close with him. “soccer practice?”

“yeah.” his curt response was followed by his reddened face. you blinked a few times; why was he embarrassed about it? sure, this was certainly a situation to be in, and you’ve definitely seen a similar situation play out in different romance books or shows before, but you don’t even like each other. it’s not a big deal.

you didn’t know it, but rin was sweating bullets on the inside. did you think this was too much? too stupid of him? he hoped you didn’t get the wrong impression; he liked you and he didn’t want you to think of him as too dumb or too naïve. “you stayed late to help the teachers again.”

it was supposed to be a question, but he worded it like a statement. “i did. but it’s fine.” you replied.

“don’t keep on doing it. i don’t have millions of umbrella for you to spare.” he drawled, forcing the umbrella into your hand and walking away. the rain drenched his dark locks immediately, but he didn’t seem to care.

“wait, rin!” you exclaimed. “you need this too!”

“i don’t. i’m going to shower back home anyways.” his face was nearly a tomato at this point, and he’s never been gladder than his back was facing you. he certainly couldn’t spare you millions of umbrellas, but he hoped to always protect you and your heart from any other pouring rain.

𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄 - 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐒

you were done with him.

everyone knew that you were hopelessly in love with sae. maybe it wasn’t the best option as one of re al’s managers, but you couldn’t help it. and yet after he literally just ended a match with a spectacular goal, you couldn’t bring yourself to congratulate him or celebrate.

not when a hot interviewer was asking him questions a little too comfortably, and he didn’t back away. were you being petty and misunderstanding? yes. but you didn’t care.

“alright guys, afterparty at the usual bar!” another manager exclaimed. everyone cheered before changing rapidly and getting onto the limousine, ready for another night of hooliganism.

sae sat next to you, and you ignored him, blasting music into your headphones. at your lack of response to him, he glanced at you, but you didn’t spare him a single look.

finally, when you all arrived at the bar, everyone instantly jumped out to harass the bartender with requests for drinks. but instead, you stood in the corner, and finally, when you made sure that everyone was busy, you walked outside for some alone time.

you just didn’t notice that sae was staring at you the entire time.

the november air was cold, and before you realized it, raindrops began to fall on your head. “oh, shit.” you muttered. you should go inside before it began to pour. but before you could, you ran into a stiff figure.

“you’ve been ignoring me.” you don’t need to look up to see that it’s sae. “even now. tell me what’s going on.”

“you don’t need to know.” you muttered, trying to walk past him. he grasped your wrist, gaze unmoving from you. the rain suddenly began to fall like tears after a bad test result. “stop it. leave me alone.”

“i do need to know.” sae muttered. “you’re only ignoring me and no one else. you’re the manager of my team. if this is how you’re going to behave, then you must as well just quit this job.”

“just leave me alone—“

“i won’t.”

“why do you care so much?!”

“because i love you.”

silence.

your eyes widened, your jaw dropped. you tried to find words, but you were already having a hard enough time to register his words. “you…what?”

“i love you. i always have.” sae affirmed. and finally, you realized how stupid you really were for being jealous, when that interviewer stood no chance against you in the first place. sae never lied after all.

and suddenly, the rain stopped, and a rainbow slowly lit itself over your heads.

[sturniphone]

𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . introducing:

; ⌗ dealer!chris && bambi!reader﹒🍥 ⸝⸝

Chris is the guy everyone wants: hoodie up, eyes sharp, always smelling like weed and cash. Bambi is the girl everyone stares at—tiny dresses, glitter lip gloss, and a pink bunny plush peeking from her purse. They shouldn’t work; he’s cold and careless, and she’s all feelings and tears, but they orbit each other like gravity. He sells, she sulks, they argue in his car and make up in the backseat. No matter how much they fight, he always comes back with her favourite snacks and mumbles, ❝Don’t cry, baby. You know you’re mine.❞

Bambi cries a lot. Because he was mean. Because he didn’t answer. Because her bunny plush dropped on the floor. Chris used to lose it, but now? He sighs, rolls his eyes, and wipes her tears with his sleeve. ❝You done?❞ He’ll mutter but pulls her into his lap anyway. She’s dramatic, pouty, and painfully cute, always climbing into his lap like she belongs there (she does). Her world feels too loud without him, and when she sniffles, ❝I just want to be near you,❞ he holds her tighter and whispers, ❝Then stay forever, yeah?❞

She doesn’t know how to lie or pretend to be cool. She needs love in excess, melts under praise, and her voice cracks when she says, ❝You’re not going to leave me, right?❞ She’s impossible not to spoil. Chris never even tries to stop himself.

At parties, she’s the quietest one in the loudest outfit. Pink fishnets, a leopard mini skirt, hair ribbons, and lip gloss too sparkly to be real. Everyone watches her, but she never flirts back; she just blinks her big Bambi eyes and hides behind Chris like, ❝Why’s he looking at me?❞ He eats it up. Puts a possessive hand on her thigh, tells people, ❝She’s off-limits. Look again and I’ll break your jaw.❞ She giggles, kisses his cheek, and whispers something filthy only he gets to hear.

They fight way too often—she’s clingy, he’s cold, and both of them have tempers. But the love is insane. Chris could be mid-deal, yelling at someone, and if she texts ❝I’m sad,❞ he’s ghosting the guy and driving to her with a blunt and a cupcake. She’ll scream at him for forgetting to text and then, two minutes later, be crying in his arms while he kisses her forehead. It’s not perfect—but they don’t want anyone else. ❝You drive me fuckin’ crazy,❞ he mutters. ❝Yeah? Well, you love me.❞ He does. More than anything.

Chris acts like he doesn’t care about pictures, but his lock screen is a blurry photo of Bambi asleep with her bunny, drooling on his hoodie. He tells everyone it’s just ’cause she looks dumb. The truth is, he checks it a hundred times a day just to see her face.

They’re obsessed with each other. Like gross, horny, can’t-keep-their-hands-off-each-other obsessed. Quickies in his car, her moaning his name into her bunny plush, his chain hitting her chest while he tells her, ❝You love when I ruin you, don’t you, Bambi?❞ But it’s not just sex. It’s post-party bath time with her in his shirt. It’s him doing her lip liner while she sits in his lap. It’s her tracing his face and whispering, ❝You’re safe with me.❞ Freaks, yes. But freaks who are endgame. Forever, no matter how loud or messy or filthy it gets.

what to expect?

So yeah, basically everything for them. I’m obsessed. I’d love little texts or blurbs for them, especially since they fight a lot and she’s always texting him like, “I’m sad, come over and cuddle me.” Definitely need smut too because, let’s be honest… they’re total freaks. But also fluff and angst, of course—they’re messy but madly in love. I actually have a moodboard for her saved in my drafts if you guys are into it?? please asks and questions about them !!

@chrepsi @ph3ebssturniolo @sturnsxbbyeilish @j21l91 @pip4444chris @mattslutt @sophand4n4 @mattscoquette @mi-co-uk @tezzzzzzzz @emely9274 @oopsiedaisydeer

[rawjutsu]

US WHEN? p3 of the ":3 with benefits" series

pairing: college aged loser yuuta x college aged lesser loser freader

summary: he sends the wrong porn. you get off anyway and make yuuta give you the lay you deserved the first time around. fluff ensues.

cw: explicit smut, gooner tendencies, overstimulation, begging, soft dom/sub dynamics, excessive oral/fingering, cum kink, mildly unhinged Yuuta, praise, consent-focused, riding, overstimulation, cumplay, praise kink, emotional vulnerability, accidental love confession, reader takes control, subby!Yuuta, crying (of pleasure), aftercare themes

it’s been about a week and a half since you and yuuta accidentally fell into… whatever this is.

no label. no discussion. just doujinshi trades, anime binges, and overpriced ramen from the same spot that knows both your orders by heart now. you’ve started slipping into each other's dorms like it’s second nature—sometimes with drinks, sometimes with boba, once with a usb drive full of bl that was questionably legal to obtain.

the weird part? he never brings up the hookup. not even once. it's like that night never happened—like you imagined the whole thing, the ceiling posters, the way he manhandled your tits like they were made of mochi. he doesn’t even try to touch you again. no sleazy comments, no “remember when i folded you like origami?”, just anime and awkward blushes and your favorite matcha drink waiting for you outside after your monday lecture.

which is exactly why you’re caught so off guard when he sends… that.

you’re lying in bed, lights off, texting links back and forth like usual.

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ oh maybe you’ve heard of this one, i saw it on twitter the other day and bookmarked it to send to you!!

you open the link.

it is not a doujinshi.

it's a video. grainy, reposted from some twitter porn account. a girl is straddling a guy on a couch, kissing him slow, deep. his hands slip down her pajama pants, and her moans—soft and a little whiny—fill the room.

you jolt. clutch your phone like it burned you. your dorm is silent except for the breathy, intimate audio playing from your screen. thank god you have a single.

your hand hovers over the keyboard.

um, i don’t think this is what you meant to send

you hit send.

the response comes in immediately.

yuuta 🤷‍♂️  OH MY GOD I DIDNT MEAN TO SEND THAT I MEAN I MEANT TO SEND PORN BUT NOT THAT KIND OF PORN IM SO SORRY

your phone buzzes again.

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ i’m so sorry i promise i wasn’t being gross i had like 3 tabs open and twitter is evil and i didn’t mean to be weird i’m so sorry you’re so cool i swear i didn’t mean—

you stop reading after that.

because unfortunately, you’re not mad.

you're horny.

your cheeks are warm, your thighs pressed together, and somehow—without even thinking—your hand is already slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. it’s instinctive at this point. the video’s still playing, and even though it’s not super explicit, it’s intimate in a way that makes you ache.

you imagine yuuta’s hands instead. his voice. the way he looked when he said your name last time, all fucked-out and breathless like it broke him a little. you remember the weight of him on top of you, the way he stared at your chest like it was holy.

ten minutes pass.

your breathing's slowed. your head's clearer. your phone’s still lighting up with apology texts.

you scroll down. you bite your lip nervous.

you type:

us when?

there’s a beat of silence.

then:

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ wait are you serious like actually serious? is this a bit or are you like asking fr

you grin, staring at the screen, the afterglow still humming in your blood. you don't reply right away.

you like letting him sweat.

yuuta’s typing. then stopping. then typing again.

poor guy’s probably pacing a hole into his dorm carpet.

finally, a new bubble pops up:

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ do you want me to come over

you smirk.

yes also can u bring that strawberry matcha too btw

there’s a solid minute where nothing comes through.

then:

yuuta 🤷‍♂️ On my way! rn

. . .

fifteen minutes later, there’s a knock at your dorm.

you open it to find yuuta standing there, disheveled as ever, hoodie thrown over some wrinkled t-shirt, hair a mess like he didn’t even look in the mirror before running over. his hand is shaking a little as he holds out the drink.

“uh… hi.”

you take the matcha and sip casually, eyes not leaving his.

“you ran, didn’t you?”

“i didn’t wanna make you wait—”

he trails off. his eyes flicker down your body. you're wearing sleep shorts and an oversized tee, nothing crazy, but something shifts in his expression anyway. that glassy look you remember from the dorm. the one that led to your legs being shoved behind your ears while he moaned something embarrassing into your neck.

you step aside.

“come in.”

the tension is palpable.

he sits at the edge of your bed like he’s not sure he’s allowed to exist in your room. you sit across from him, sipping your matcha slowly. his leg bounces. he keeps opening his mouth like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

so you say it first.

“you watch that video after you sent it to me?”

yuuta chokes on air.

“i—i mean—”

“because i did.”

he stares at you, eyes wide, lips parted.

“like… while you were apologizing.”

you take another slow sip. it’s petty. it’s cruel. it’s also very deserved.

yuuta makes a strangled sound and covers his face with his hands.

“i thought i scared you off,” he mumbles behind them.

“nah,” you say, standing up and walking over to him. “you just made me really, really horny.”

his eyes snap to yours.

you take his drink from his hands, set it on the desk, and straddle him like it’s the most casual thing in the world. he freezes.

“still scared?”

he shakes his head, dumbly.

“good.”

you lean in, slow and deliberate, until your lips are just brushing his.

“then shut up and kiss me right this time.”

he does. a little clumsily at first, then like he’s been waiting to for weeks. like he’s been jerking off to the memory of your moans since the last time, and maybe he has.

you grind down against him, and he groans into your mouth, hands finding your waist like they remember how to hold you. like his body never forgot. you’re not sure where this leaves either of you—but you know where it’s going tonight.

and you’re not stopping him.

not when he’s already whispering, voice shaking:

“can i touch you again? please?”

before you can answer his hands are all over you the second you straddle him. nervous at first, then desperate. like he can’t believe you’re letting him touch you again. like he’s still scared he’ll wake up and realize this was just another post-nut hallucination.

you pull back, catching your breath, and say:

“you remember what happened last time?”

he pauses. swallows.

“y-yeah.”

“yeah?” you echo, tilting your head. “you remember how you came? like… a lot?”

he nods quickly, wide-eyed. definitely still picturing it.

“and i didn’t.”

that lands like a punch to the chest. yuuta immediately looks like you just kicked his cat.

“oh my god. i’m so sorry—i thought—i mean, i wasn’t trying to be a selfish dick i just—fuck—i’m—”

you press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up.

“relax. you’re gonna make it up to me, right?”

he nods, again. this time slower. eyes heavy-lidded.

you lean close, lips brushing his ear.

“good. because you’re not gonna stop until i cum all over your pretty face.”

he’s on his knees within seconds.

dragging your shorts down slow like he’s unwrapping something sacred. he kisses up your thighs, murmuring praises between each one:

“so pretty…” “so warm…” “i missed this. i missed you.”

you thread your fingers through his hair and pull—just to hear him whimper. his breath hitches, but he doesn’t complain. he just flattens his tongue against your slit, slow and messy, like he’s savoring the taste.

his hands are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned to the edge of the bed. you gasp when he starts to moan into your pussy, like he’s the one getting off on it.

“god, yuuta—”

he pulls back just enough to pant:

“i could do this forever. please—lemme make you cum. i want it so bad.”

then he dives back in.

his tongue circles your clit just right, obscene and wet, while two fingers curl up inside you with a desperation that has nothing to do with experience and everything to do with obsession.

he’s gone. lost in it. gooner-mode fully activated.

you’re grinding down against his face without even realizing it, his name falling from your lips over and over while he chases every twitch of your body like it’s gospel.

“f-fuck, yuuta—fuck—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

you cum hard. shaking. hands buried in his hair.

he doesn't stop.

doesn’t even slow down.

he keeps going like a man possessed—fingers still working you open, tongue still lapping you up, moaning every time you clench around him like he’s the one getting off from it.

you squirm, overstimulated, but he just groans:

“give me another. please. just one more. i need it.”

“yuuta—fucking hell—”

“i’ll die if you don’t cum again i’m serious—i’ll pass away right here with my face in your pussy and you’ll have to explain it to the RA—”

you laugh, breathless, but then your back arches again because somehow this bastard keeps going. a second orgasm slams into you like a freight train and you cry out, thighs shaking, legs locking around his head.

he groans, almost possessive, and grinds his face against you like he’s trying to fuse with your soul.

you tug his hair hard to get him to stop. he finally pulls back, face flushed, lips shiny, eyes dazed.

“oh my god,” you gasp. “what the fuck—”

he’s still panting. still hard. you haven’t even touched him.

he looks up at you, wrecked and glistening in your juices.

“did i make it up to you?”

you grin.

“not yet.”

you smile—slow and sweet like poison in a teacup—and push him gently by the shoulders until he’s flat on your bed.

yuuta lets you climb on top like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like this is church, and you’re what he’s here to worship.

you reach between his legs, pull his sweatpants down just enough to free his dick—and fuck, he’s hard as a rock. dripping. twitching.

“god,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around him. “you’re a mess.”

he moans like you just blessed him. the moment you start to stroke him, he’s already bucking up into your hand.

“please, please—i want it so bad, you feel so good—”

“yeah?” you murmur, hovering over him. “you want me to ride you, baby?”

“yes—fuck, please—ride me, use me, i’ll be so good—”

you don’t give him a second to think. you line him up and sink down onto him slow—too slow—because you want him to feel everything. every inch. every squeeze. every second of being inside the pussy he’s been obsessing over since the moment he saw you on his dorm bed the first time.

yuuta screams.

no exaggeration. the moment you bottom out, his whole body tenses and he chokes out a sob.

“ohmygod—oh my fucking god—”

“shh,” you tease, rocking your hips just once. “can’t tap out yet, baby. you haven’t made it up to me.”

“i—i can’t—i’m gonna cum—”

“no you’re not.”

you squeeze around him just enough to make him whimper.

“not until i say so.”

and then you ride him.

hard. slow. deep. a little inexperienced but fuck if yuuta cares.

every bounce of your hips is calculated to pull a new sound out of him. his fingers dig into your thighs, but he’s not moving—he wouldn’t dare. you’ve got him trained, gooned out and glassy-eyed, tears beading at the corners from how good you feel wrapped around his dick.

“you're so tight—you feel so good—i can’t take it, i can’t—”

“you will. you made me wait last time. so you’re gonna take it now, baby. all of it.”

he nods furiously, babbling. you’re not even sure what he’s saying anymore—something about how perfect you are, how soft, how warm, how he’d let you kill him with your pussy if you wanted. his eyes are wild, unfocused. his chest is flushed. you bounce faster.

“you close?”

“i’m gonna fucking die,” he sobs. “i love you, i love your pussy so much, i love you—”

you freeze. still fully seated on his dick.

yuuta gapes like a fish. realizes what he said.

“i—i meant your pussy—i meant—i love that—not that i—”

too late.

you lean forward, caging his face with your hands, staring right into his panicked, gooner-brained eyes.

“say it again.”

“w-what—”

“the part where you said you love me.”

he looks up at you like he’s about to cry again—but he swallows and says, small and wrecked:

“...i love you.”

“good boy.”

and then you grind down hard, making him cum so violently he sees stars. he lets out a raw groan, clutching you like you’re the last stable thing on earth as he fills you up. he’s still whimpering, still moving a little—he can’t stop even though he’s shaking from it, overstimulated beyond sense.

you stroke his hair as he pants beneath you.

“wasnt that so much better than last time?”

he nods into your chest, tears drying on his cheeks.

“i don’t even remember what day it is.”

. . .

your dormroom is quiet now.

yuuta’s breathing has finally evened out, and the weird porno twitter tab is mercifully closed. he’s curled up beside you, arms around your waist, cheek resting against your chest like he needs skin-to-skin to recharge his serotonin levels.

he’s still pink all over. hair damp with sweat. you could honestly say he looks adorable—if he weren’t also the same guy who had just begged to die in your pussy less than ten minutes ago.

you stroke his hair idly, your legs still tangled together.

“you okay?” you ask, softly.

he nods. doesn’t lift his head.

“that was so good,” he mumbles. “like… top 3 moments of my life.”

“only top 3?”

“okay fine. top 1. easily.”

you laugh, and yuuta finally looks up at you. eyes big. earnest.

he opens his mouth, then shuts it again. then opens it again.

“hey… um.”

you blink. “yeah?”

“can i ask you something?”

you raise an eyebrow. “you’re not about to ask if you can eat me out again, right? because i need, like, a hydration break and—”

“no—! i mean—yes eventually—but not what i was gonna say right now!”

you grin. “then what?”

he looks nervous. ridiculously nervous. like he’s about to propose in front of a stadium.

“do you wanna be… y’know…”

“yuuta.”

“...my girlfriend?”

it’s rushed and soft and kind of embarrassing, and he says it while looking down at your comforter like he expects it to swallow him whole if you say no.

you blink.

then grin.

“yeah. i do.”

his head snaps up.

“wait seriously?”

“yes, seriously. you’re cute. you bring me matcha. and your dick isn't half bad, that’s boyfriend material.”

yuuta looks like his soul just left his body in relief. he buries his face back in your chest, groaning.

“oh thank god. i was gonna ask earlier but i was scared you only saw me as, like… your doujinshi plug with benefits.”

“oh, i do see you as that. you’re just also my boyfriend now.”

he groans louder, cuddling closer.

“i can’t believe i get to call you my girlfriend,” he mumbles.

you kiss the top of his head.

“i can’t believe i let a man who unironically uses emoticons hit it raw, but here we are.”

yuuta giggles—actual, giggles—and you both lie there a little longer, wrapped in each other and the gross knowledge that, yeah… this started with a horny hinge match.

but it might just end in love.

taglist: @angelita-uchiha sttaejoon-blog isagistar wankowan

[ryomicide]

fratboy!eren, who despite his bad reputation, poor attendance, and countless missing assignments, will drop everything to help you when you’re even slightly confused on the topic you’re learning. see, aside from his poor academics, eren wasn’t a bad student– just, not exactly focused right now. 

fratboy!eren, who’s friends could all tell something was up with him, only, they didn’t know what. and to their surprise, he had even less of an idea than they did. his best friend, jean, knew he’d moved on to his next girl of the month, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but little by little, he’d watched eren start acting differently. less partying, no more girls coming by the house, hell– he’d even started attending his classes.

“alright bro, what the fuck is going on with you?” jean bluntly asked him. to be honest, he’d never seen his best friend act the way he’d been acting recently, and it really did scare him. “you got a terminal illness or somethin’? are you gonna die soon, jaeger?”

“the fuck are talkin’ about?” eren spat out at him as he continued getting ready. he was getting ready to go see you, of course, and jean knew it.

“I’m talking about you. you and this girl.” jean fired back. “she pregnant or something-” jean lowers his voice for the next part of his sentence, “did she give you an std or some shit?”

“what?! gross- no!” eren shouts. he knew he’d been acting differently since meeting you, but he didn’t think that anybody else had caught onto it. he hadn’t even fully realized it until a few days ago when he found himself actually doing his homework. he didn’t know what the hell this feeling was, it made his chest feel all weird and tingly. it was a foreign feeling to him, and if it was up to him, he’d keep it that way. but he couldn’t help that anytime he saw you, he’d hear his heartbeat in his ears. anytime he made you laugh, he felt on top of the world. anytime he even saw your smile, he just couldn’t make himself look away.

“then what is it?” jean questions. 

“fuck off, its nothing.” eren states dryly.

“oh come on, its not nothing. i mean we all know you’ve moved onto some new mystery girl,” he says, emphasizing the mystery of both you and eren’s feelings. “but none of us thought anything of it. but now that i’m really thinking about it, it seems different this time. you’re different. actually doing your work ‘n shit, putting effort into your appearance, showing up to your classes now, too. i know this has gotta be someone else’s doing.”

“its nothing, alright?” eren says again, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince his best friend. eren couldn’t even look in jean’s direction, scared he’d realize that his face had started to turn a little red.

“‘nothing,’ my ass.” jean snorts. he quickly glances at the face of his best friend, who suddenly wouldn’t meet his gaze. was he… blushing? well isn’t this a sight to see.

oh. ohhhhhh. jean understood it now. he’d known eren for years. never had he once seen eren act this way. 

“you’ve got a crush.” jean states through a fit of laughter. “eren jaeger’s got a crush!” he continues, laughing his way back to his room as eren throws a shoe at him.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” eren shouted as he threw anything in reach at jean. eren wasn’t stupid, he knew he had a thing going on with you, and he knew it was a little different, deeper, than anything he’d ever been in before, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. that was until jean had literally figured it out for the both of them.

fratboy!eren, who smiled to himself the entire time he walked across campus to your dorm, could finally admit that he did, indeed, have a crush on you.

໒꒰ྀི っ ⸝⸝ ˂ ꒱ྀིა / ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১౨ৎ

for the light of mi life @wave4hyka

hehehe i’ve never written like this in my life, so please, guys, bear with me.. also NOT proofread

anyways just finished parasite by yagamisdiary and im feeling mightily inspired so you guys r gonna have to deal with whatever this is until i get busy again and cannot stand the idea of even writing a sentence!

n e wayz, this was lowk fun, should i write more stupid drabbles like this? …or whatever you call it