#(ANYWAY Not sure if gonna be able to watch in full but)

[koushirouizumi]

{This is also (half of) what I want for all of my O.T.P.s For Your Info}

[neroushalvaus]

Tumblr in the 60s

☮ monkeewholock follow

🎉🎉CONGRATULATIONS UNITED KINGDOM 🎊🎊🎉🎉🎉🎉BYE BYE GROSS INDECENCY!!!!🌈🌈🌈 62 countries have now legalized sexual activities between men🌈🌈🌈

🐞 homophilespock follow

SPIRK CAN FINALLY FUCK

🚀 starrfleet follow

They are American, not British... But I'm pretty sure spirk has always been able to fuck since the show is set in the future.

📻 lesbianbobdylan follow

Christ, this is not about your cutesy uwu yaoi otp, go outside and smoke some grass

10,8 t. notes

🌻 flowerpower follow

Politicians are not your friends but damn Kennedy is fine, I look at one (1) picture of him and my head literally explodes

🌻 flowerpower follow

...i just woke up, why is my askbox full

🌻 flowerpower follow

WHY IS HE TRENDING I'M SCARED

🌻 flowerpower follow

guys stop reblogging this it's been like five years i've changed

290,9 t. notes

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

do you think they call him little richard because he has a little. Richard

🎹 nixonsafascist follow

easy website

58,1 t. notes

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Being the only lesbian in your friend group sucks so bad. "beatles or stones??" i will kill you

🗣 lavendermenaceisreal-deactivated72537262

Disrespecting female social groups for male validation? Typical lesbian behaviour.

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Mike Jacker isnt gonna fuck you

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial follow

Oh no I think she couldn't handle that

77 notes

✌ draftdodgerdyke

DM me for the addresses of my Swedish and Canadian friends. Do not put your personal information in the reblogs.

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

You should be ashamed of yourself.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

huh??

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

I said, you should be ashamed of yourself. You disgust me. I assure you, when the commies attack us, you will not find your silly little post "groovy" anymore.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Jesus, don't flip your wig

🙍‍♀️ silvermilk follow

My father fought in ww2 for you ungrateful degenerate.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Don't see what your daddy's unsexiness has to do with me and my lads taking a sexy sexy trip to Sweden.

#anyway only hot guys dodge the draft

587 notes

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

in every interview i watch of the beatles they are so DONE and trolling everybody, these fucking annoying BITCHES, i need them inside me so badly

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

#this but not john lennon #i just can't forget the heinous things he said about jesus

idk I actually think it was very sexy of him, stop trying to cancel john in my post

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

The reading comprehension on this website is piss poor. John literally didn't mean he was greater than Jesus or better than Jesus, he was just trying to make a point about the world becoming more secular. Cancel culture has gone too far.

🚷 to-hell-with-the-beatles follow

How dare you say we piss on the poor?? Jesus died for Mr Lennon's sins and it's not "cancelling" to send him a few respectably worded death threats to remind him of that. He cancelled our Lord first!

✝️ jesusrevolution follow

Girl Jesus literally said it's cool, I dropped acid yesterday and saw Him and He told me.

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians follow

help the girls (christians) are fighting in my beatles thirst post

6,008 notes

🛼 donovandyke follow

I will be glued to the tv today. If you don't want to hear about it, just blacklist #moonlanding !!

0 notes

🗣 claudeberger4ever-deactivated98975287

Hi I'm new to the Hair musical fandom so I'm not super invested in the whole discourse, but I just felt like this needed to be said: Friendly reminder that not being against the war in Vietnam does not make you a bad person!

🥁 ringoforpresident follow

it literally does tho

✌ draftdodgerdyke

Another win for us hot guys

17,2 t. notes

[sainns]

LIKE OR LIKE LIKE.

𝓢. ㅤㅤthis is the the first time you've ever gotten drunk and of course you go and confess to your best friend.

SJYㅤ✶ ㅤ (⠀femreader⠀) . . . best friends to lovers (kind of, they don't explicitly start dating), fluff, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk, not proofread.ㅤ1428 words

“i’ve never seen her drunk before,” sunghoon points to where you’re leaning against the wall.

jake turns to look at you, watching as you talk to chaewon. you’re continously taking sips of your drink, a sleepy smile on your face as you listen to your friend’s (most likely) drunk ramblings. he can tell you’re tipsy, at the very least; your body is swaying, it seems like you’re having a hard time staying upright.

“yeah.. i’m gonna go lay her down before it gets worse. i don’t want her to wake up sick,”

sunghoon gives jake a knowing look, shrugging as he takes a sip of his own drink, “predictable,”

“what?”

“nothing,”

sunghoon grins, patting jake on the head before walking away to—jake assumes—bother his girlfriend. the older boy shakes his head, running a hand through his already messy hair, turning around once more to watch you.

this is the first time you’ve ever gotten drunk, he thinks. you’ve mentioned before that it’s because you’re scared of how you’ll act, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of them. he’s glad that you’re more comfortable now, and at least you’re only here with them, your friends, and not at some party full of strangers and weirdos.

he watches as chaewon pats your back, albeit a little forcefully, before she leaves to find someone new to bother. he also watches you attempt to follow her but give up halfway through your first step. he smiles to himself, heading over to where you’re standing—or leaning.

“oookay, no more for you. you can’t even stand straight, dude,” jake takes the red solo cup away and out of your reach, giving you an amused smile. you pout but you don’t put up a fight—you can’t, not fully anyways. if you could, though, you would tell him that he’s being dramatic; six shots and half a cup of jungle juice is hardly anything.

“c’mon, you can go lay down in my room, you look tired,”

“okay,”

you make a move to walk by yourself but jake steps behind you, placing his hands on your waist so that he can guide you away from your friends. it feels like your senses are heightened to a dangerous level because why do you get goosebumps the moment he touches you? you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your heart to calm down.

somehow you make it to his bedroom without stumbling a whole lot (this is 100% thanks to jake; you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to do it yourself), and he taps your side, signaling for you to sit down on his bed, which you do.

he kneels down and pulls your shoes off, setting them on the floor. he pats your thigh, leaving yet another wake of goosebumps on your skin, “stay here, ‘kay? i’m gonna go get you some water,”

“i don’t want any,” you whine, “i’m tired, not thirsty,”

“yeah, well, you’ll be thirsty in a little bit,”

“no, i won’t,”

“yes, you will. you’re drunk,”

you huff, throwing yourself back on the bed, “am not. also you’re so annoying. i don’t want water, i always drink water,”

jake snorts at your antics, tucking his head away as he tries to keep from laughing too loudly. after a few seconds, he calms down and looks back at your figure, smiling fondly. you can’t see him, your eyes closed as you hum some random song that he hasn’t heard since he was ten years old.

you look so serene, he doesn’t want to disturb you. he figures he can just tell sunghoon or someone to come bring some water or he can wait for you to fall asleep.

“i’m sad,” you huff, sitting up slowly.

“why are you sad, hm?” he rests his head against your knee.

you frown at him. his words felt slightly condescending. not that you really cared, in fact it kind of made you feel dizzy. wow, he’s just terrible. looking at you all worried, taking care of you while you’re (not) drunk.

“because of you,”

he sits up at that. he looks like a dog who heard the word ‘snack’ or something. of course, he wasn’t happy. he looked more worried than before, in fact.

“me? what’d i do?”

“you’re just annoying,” you whine, “you know, i like you and it’s kinda funny ‘cause i’m, like, so obvious about it,”

“you like me? like like me?”

“well, actually, i love you,” you pause, “you’re not very smart, now that i think about it. how’d you even graduate? did you cheat? i think everyone knows but you. this is so awful, i can’t believe i had to go and like someone so oblivious. you’re lucky everything else cancels that out,”

“wait, wait, wait. you love me? that’s..” jake asks, his face flushed, completely disregarding everything you said after your confession, “yn, you’re.. you know, you’re drunk,”

“oh, okay,” you push his head away, “look, i’ll tell you tomorrow, ‘cos i really mean it and you’re so annoying and it’s, like, oh my god,” you say something else after that but he can’t tell what. not with you speaking as fast as humanly possible paired with drunken slurring.

he nods slowly, processing your words, “yeah.. okay. you can’t forget, alright?”

you grin, poking his cheek, “duh, i have an amazing memory,”

your amazing memory may be your downfall. surely, you had drank enough to wake up the next morning with zero memory. isn’t that what usually happens when someone gets so drunk they tell their best friend that they like them? not even like, you said you loved him.

and now you’re laying in his bed, face pressed into his pillow, absolutely mortified at your past self’s actions.

you’re never going to speak to him again. you’re going to get up, put your shoes on, and sneak out. yeah, it’ll seem like you’re doing the walk of shame, god forbid anyone catches you, but that’d be less embarrassing than having to talk to jake.

you don’t get the chance to attempt to escape, though, because jake walks in right as you’re weighing your options.

“hey, are you awake? it’s two in the afternoon,” you hear him place a glass on the nightstand as he sits next to you.

you could pretend that you forgot.

you feel his hand rubbing your back, “i heard you groaning, get up,”

“i don’t want to,” you mumble into the pillow, pressing your face into it harder.

“i can’t hear you, you know,”

you groan loudly, picking your head up, “i don’t want to get up,”

“why? are you embarrassed?”

“i didn’t do anything embarrassing,” yes you did.

he nods, “nah, you didn’t. i was just checking, you get embarrassed easily,”

you’re quiet for a moment after that. his hand is still rubbing your back and you can feel your heat beating against your chest. you want to pretend that you forgot about last night but for some reason you can’t. you want to bring it up despite feeling nauseous at the thought of being rejected.

“i like you,”

he smiles, “yesterday you said you love me,”

you gape at him and he laughs loudly. you want to kill both him and yourself.

“i’m sorry—i’m kidding.. i like you too,” he hums, tilting his head, “no, actually, i love you,”

you frown, “you’re embarrassing me,”

he laughs again which makes you want to both laugh and hide away from him, “god, you’re so cute. i kinda wanna kiss you, is that okay?”

you almost say yes before you remember that you just woke up not even twenty minutes ago and you are not going to kiss him with bad breath. especially not when you were drinking the night before.

“i just woke up,”

he leans forward, close enough that you can just barely lift your head and you’ll be able to kiss him, “so?”

“no,” it pains you to do so but you turn your head away from him. you know he won’t kiss you if you don’t want him to but you’d probably fold and kiss him if he kept staring at you like that, “you can.. uh, later. after i brush my teeth,”

he turns you over onto your back, smiling above you brightly. you gasp at the sudden movement, your heart racing yet again (you should go to the hospital), “promise? i really wanna kiss you right now,”

you laugh, reaching your hand up to move his hair out of his face, “yeah, i promise. i really wanna kiss you too.”

[thriftedtchotchkes]

come clean

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, language, getting together, slow buildup, jackson era, smut, handjob, f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected piv, rough sex, shower sex, size kink

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this one goes out to emotional support daydreams! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. hope y'all enjoy 💕

Joel’s having a rough day. It’s late, and he’s bone-tired and covered in…well, he’s not really sure what he’s covered in. Mud and bits of dead grass, definitely, but there's splotches of red on his jeans, too. He couldn’t tell you whether it’s his blood or something else’s—the adrenaline still hasn’t completely worn off, so it’s entirely possible he’s not feeling the full extent of his injuries yet.

His day hadn’t started that badly, but it wasn’t a typical morning, either. Maria had stopped him and Tommy at the gate to ask if they'd mind checking out a situation at the dam instead of patrolling their usual route.

Apparently, some of the machinery was acting up and the only person she trusted to oversee the repairs was Tommy. She honestly hadn't given much thought to Joel's part in all of it—their relationship is still pretty tense, even after his return to Jackson, so he was just along for the ride.

Things went downhill fast after they arrived at their destination. No one's really sure how the infected got into the facility, but it was a lucky thing Joel was there after all. With the help of a few guards, they were able to dispatch everything in and around the building without any bites or serious injuries but, boy, did they make a serious mess. Of the facility and the machinery they were supposed to help fix, and of Joel.

So now here he is, exhausted and dirty, getting shit from his kid when all he wants to do is get clean and take a fucking nap.

“Ew, gross,” Ellie groans, clearly not giving two shits about how badly Joel’s day is going or how little she’s helping right now. She had the day off and is somehow still watching movies in the same spot he left her in this morning. “Stop touching things! You’re getting shit everywhere.”

He ignores her and shrugs off his coat, walking into the living room to toss it over the back of his recliner, but she throws him a dirty look that stops him in his tracks.

"Whatever, m'gettin’ in the shower," he grunts, dropping it on the doormat instead. He'll probably have to burn that coat anyway if the stains and…odor are anything to go by.

"Uhhhh, no, actually you're not," she says matter-of-factly, and he raises his eyebrows, eyeing her expectantly when she doesn't elaborate.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Did your hearing get worse or something? Shower's already on,” she nods toward the stairs. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice the sound of running water filtering down from the second floor earlier, but now he’s annoyed that he can’t shower and that she might actually be right about his hearing.

"Well then, I'm waitin' here," he sasses back, taking a seat on the recliner with zero regard to the upholstery.

"Dude!" She’s starting to look as exasperated as he feels. And her reaction isn’t unwarranted. If he touches literally anything in this living room, they’ll probably have to burn it, too.

"Fine, fine, m'not touchin' anythin'," he stands back up, holding his hands up in surrender. "How long's she been in there?"

"Like, five minutes. Probably gonna be a while, knowing her,” she replies with an amused grin. Oh, so she thinks this is funny.

"The fuck do ya expect me to do then, stand here ‘til she's out?" He asks as if it’s not exactly what he’s been doing the entire time they’ve been having this conversation.

"As long as you don't sit on any of the furniture, I don't really give a shit what you do," she shrugs.

He rolls his eyes at her, running a hand down his face in frustration. He’s just about to give up and hose himself down in the yard when she finally offers a solution.

"You could just knock and see if she'll swap out with you. She basically just got in, anyway."

“Y’know what, I think I will,” he grumbles, heading upstairs to the bathroom and leaving Ellie to her shitty 90s sci-fi thriller. She shakes her head, laughing as she slips on her headphones.

“Don’t be too loud up there!”

But with his bad ears, he doesn’t hear her.

God, you needed this shower so badly. It's been a rough day, to say the least, and it’s finally time to get the relaxation you deserve. You got saddled with an extra patrol shift because two of the usual guys had a last-minute change of assignment, and it turned a typical day into an unbelievably exhausting one.

But tonight you got lucky. There was no one around to use up all of the hot water besides Ellie, who’s been glued to the TV all day, and you miraculously got home before Joel. So tonight, you get to enjoy the expensive bottle of shampoo you found at some fancy store in some fancy mall last month, and let yourself forget for a while that there’s fucking fungus monsters out there eating people.

That is—until someone knocks on the door and ends your perfect evening before it begins. Now you’ve got soap in your eyes, and you’re slightly worried because Ellie either needs something from the bathroom or the house is on fire. There’s never an in-between with her.

“Ellie? Everything okay?” you call out, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The voice that responds is muffled and decidedly much deeper than Ellie’s, and you’re momentarily taken off guard before you realize it’s not a burglar. It’s Joel—of course, it’s Joel. He probably got off his shift late and wants to clean up, and now you feel bad for making him wait and using up all the hot water.

You can’t really hear what he’s saying over the shower, so you slide the curtain open to poke your head out. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He tries to answer you again, or at least you think he does, but you still can’t make him out, so you tell him to come inside. The door only opens a crack, but it's so quick that there's no time to duck behind the curtain before Joel's face appears and you're both staring at each other blankly.

“…Hi,” you breathe out, praying it’s just your head and not the rest of your body peeking out. “So, um, what were you saying?”

He looks a little embarrassed and it’s adorable, but the thought only crosses your mind for a split second before you notice the rest of him. He’s—there’s really no nice way to say this, but he looks revolting.

There’s dirt everywhere. Matted in his hair, under his fingernails, all over his clothes. It looks like he’s been rolling around on the ground all day, and honestly, maybe he has. He’s also got…gross, is that a chunk of…? Nope. It looks like someone exploded in his face, and he needs a shower. Badly.

The only problem is you’re covered head-to-toe in soap, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only got about 15 minutes of hot water left.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry to barge in on ya,” he mumbles, looking pointedly away from you. “I came up here to see if you wouldn’t mind pausin’ your shower for a bit, but I, uh…can see that’s gonna be a little difficult.”

You look down at yourself and, yeah, he’s right. You’re dripping water and soap all over the floor. Getting out now would be a pain in the ass, but he also really needs to get in.

“No, no. It’s totally fine! It makes way more sense for me to sit around soapy than for you to, um, stand around like that,” you reason. It’s his turn to look down at himself, and he grimaces. “Just turn around for a sec and we can swap.”

He nods, still looking sheepish, but grateful.

You duck back into the shower to shut the water off and gather up your toiletries to make room for his. You’ve already shoved half of your stuff to one side before you realize it was probably just a waste of time because there was already plenty of space—and that's when it dawns on you.

This stall is pretty big—as far as showers go, anyway. There's no reason you can't both fit in here at the same time. It's also not like he's never seen you naked before. You joined up with Joel and Ellie long before running water was in the picture, so you've had your fair share of awkward bathing encounters. Really, it's just a matter of whether or not he'll go for it.

You pop your head back out, taking a second to admire those strong, broad shoulders of his before getting his attention. Damn, he's a real catch. Hot and respectful. But seriously, he's so disgusting right now and it would be a shame to allow that to continue.

"Hey, Joel," you start, and he glances back carefully over his shoulder. You hesitate for a beat before continuing, “So, hear me out—what if we just…if we both showered…at the same time…”

He looks confused, and you realize how badly you botched that entire sentence. Okay, so talking around it didn't work. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before trying again.

"Just—just get in with me," you say softly. "We can shower together."

His brow furrows, eyes unreadable. He looks like he might be thinking it over, but his silence isn't exactly the most encouraging reaction in the world. Subconsciously, you hold your breath while you wait for an answer.

There’s no way he’s going to go for this, is there? It’s Joel. He can barely look at you in a tank top without blushing, let alone wet and naked. You’re not even sure why you bothered asking. It was clearly a dumb—

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” he nods, turning back to you fully, and you swear he’s looking at you differently. That's…not what you were expecting. Not that you're complaining in the slightest. He's not even trying to hide his eagerness, and you're starting to think maybe he was waiting for you to ask all along.

"Well, come on in, cowboy."

Joel undresses slowly, eyeing what little of you he can see greedily, and it makes your cheeks burn. It’s like he can’t look away—from your eyes and lips, your collarbone. Even the tiny droplets of water that fall from your hair. It feels more intimate than any moment you’ve ever shared with Joel, and he hasn’t even touched you. Yet, hopefully.

You’re getting impatient. He's making a show of stripping down and it's taking everything you have not to get out of the shower and rip all of his clothes off yourself. His fingers are so thick, and more and more of his tanned, weather-worn skin is exposed to you as they work to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling at this point, imagining those fingers sinking deep inside you before you can stop yourself. Fuck, you're pent up. And should probably have a lot more shame, but now he's unzipping his jeans, and you feel like you're about to combust.

You let out a pained noise without meaning to and he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up the pace. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he teases, dropping his pants to the floor. "Why don't you get the water goin' for me?"

Now you're the one having trouble looking away. Damn, who even is this guy? He’s nothing like the Joel you’ve known for years, and definitely not the Joel who stepped into this bathroom ten minutes ago. If you'd known it would go like this, you would’ve invited him to shower with you a long time ago.

He’s down to just his boxers now, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but he looks like he’s already hard. Swallowing is suddenly extremely difficult, so you shoot him one last appreciative look before doing what he asked.

You turn the water back on and it’s still pleasurably warm as it rains down onto your tense shoulders. The steady pressure soothes some of the nerves while you wait for him to join you, but you’re so caught up in the moment that you don't notice the curtain opening.

"Scoot over," he murmurs behind you, his breath fanning out over the back of your neck. He’s close, so much closer than you expected him to be. You assumed you’d be dancing around each other for at least a little while longer, but it seems like Joel knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the shower.

He reaches around you to grab that expensive bottle of shampoo you’ve been looking forward to, his fingers grazing your bare skin, and you shiver despite the heat of the water.

“Or you could stay right here,” he says, even closer now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We could help each other out—with washin’ up, I mean.”

You inhale shakily, your reply getting caught in your throat. “Y-yes—yeah, yes…we should definitely do that,” you breathe out.

He chuckles and the sound is surprisingly affectionate. It gives you hope that this won’t just be a one-time thing. That after all this time, he wants you as much as you want him.

You’re the first to initiate physical contact, reaching back to bury your fingers in his hair which, in retrospect, turns out to be a terrible idea. He’s still filthy, and your fingers get caught in tangles and dirt and…probably a lot of other nasty shit you don’t want to think about.

You snort out a laugh, turning around to face him. “I think you’re up first, handsome.”

The corners of his mouth tip up as he nods, and you can’t resist the urge to reach up and trace his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the pad of your finger, and you wish so badly that it was your lips.

For the second time tonight, you’re feeling incredibly impatient. You want to feel more of him, let him press you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you the way you both want him to, but it’ll have to wait.

You pluck the bottle from his hands and squeeze a huge dollop into your palm, telling him to turn around with a small smile. His eyes drop to the quirk of your lips for a moment too long before he obliges, and you’re starting to realize he’s getting impatient, too.

You reach up to thread your fingers into his graying hair and, somehow, the strands still feel soft despite everything tangled up in them. It’s going to take a decent amount of scrubbing before it’s back to its normal, fluffy state of disarray, but you’ll make it feel good for him. A little taste of what's to come.

He tips his head back as you massage in the shampoo, letting out the softest groan when your fingernails scratch along his scalp, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the growing ache in your core. You’re not going to make it through this shower if he keeps making noises like that. But, of course, he does, and they're getting louder.

You can feel his body starting to respond to yours, too. It’s a little cruel how you’re purposely working him up, sliding a washcloth over his shoulders and across his back, letting your fingers skim teasingly over his skin as you stretch your arms around him to reach his front.

His stomach flexes under your palm, and he inhales sharply as your hardened nipples graze across his back. You continue your path down, running your fingers through the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction you so desperately want to provide. He's panting, and you're both having a difficult time holding yourselves back.

Brown and red swirl in the water around your feet and down the drain, and it's enough to tell you that he's finally clean. And that you can finally touch him the way you want to.

Pressing yourself firmly against his back, you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and he feels huge in your hand, rock hard and pulsing with his racing heartbeat. You pump him a few times, giving him a firm squeeze at the base, and he keens, already leaking all over himself.

He braces a hand on your hip to steady himself as you trail open-mouthed kisses down his spine, digging his fingers in roughly when you slowly start to jerk him off in earnest.

"T-that's it, pretty girl—,” he pants heavily, eyes dropping down to watch you work him, and you twist your wrist up on the next stroke, thumbing over his head. "Keep goin', just like that."

You whimper damply against his skin at the pet name, feeling a pleasurable whoosh in your belly as your cunt drips pathetically down your thighs. The throbbing between your legs is almost unbearable, but you don't want to let him go, not when his hips are meeting your fist so fucking desperately. You wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping it lower and lower until your fingers rub against your slick folds, gathering some of the wetness to rub soothing circles into your clit.

“I got you, I got you,” you moan at the sudden relief. Your caresses start to match his thrusts, and soon he's trembling in your arms, whimpering like he'll cum any second if you let him. You rub your cheek tenderly against his back, murmuring soft, encouraging words into his heated skin.

"You're doing so, so well," you tell him, and he seizes up at the praise, chest heaving as you focus your attention closer to the tip. "You wanna cum or are you gonna wait for me? Want you to fill me up…can you do that for me?"

For a second, you think your words might've thrown him over the edge, his hips stuttering against your palm even as you slow your movements. But he's still clearly fighting the urge to cum, and that has to mean he wants to fuck you badly.

His hand shakes as it lifts to wrap around yours, guiding you down to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but you're not making it easy for him. You barely notice your other hand still working your pussy, too turned on to realize you've started pumping two fingers in and out of yourself.

Joel notices, though. Something that sounds almost animalistic tears its way out of his chest as he turns on you, snatching your hand out of your cunt and slamming it against the shower wall. Your fingers are shiny and glistening with your wetness and he leans forward to suck each of them into his mouth, groaning at your taste on his tongue.

The look on his face makes it seem like you're the best meal he's ever had, and you feel a strong, sudden urge to have his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. He pulls off your middle finger with an audible pop, and then you're crashing your lips into his, immediately licking into him.

God, why do you taste so good in his mouth? It's salty and heady, and really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but you can't bring yourself to care as his tongue tangles with yours. You feel two—shit, no, it’s three—of his fingers slip into you, and, holy fuck, they're so much bigger than yours. You're already so full and they feel even thicker at the base, nudging a spot that makes you see stars.

There's no way his cock is going to fit inside you…right? But the thought of him trying anyway almost makes you cum on the spot. Another wave of heat crashes through you and your walls convulse around him, pussy gushing down his fingers, and he abruptly breaks away from your lips, groaning lowly, desperately.

"Fuck, I-I need—shit, I need to fuck you, pretty girl," he twitches against you, leaking a glob of precum as he ruts into your belly. “M'gonna fill ya up real good, just like you wanted—," and you gasp, clamping down on his fingers one more time before he's pulling them out and hauling you into his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he shoves you higher up the wall.

His hands roam your skin hungrily before eventually settling under the soft swell of your ass, holding you up as he slicks up his cock between your folds. Every time the tip catches your clit, your hips buck clean off the wall and he presses into you harder to keep you in place. You bury your face in his neck, thighs squeezing into his sides.

"S'not gonna fit," you slur, a little drunk off how good he feels between your legs. The next time his hips buck forward, the blunt head of his cock catches your entrance. "J-Joel—ngh…Joel, s'too big, you have to make it fit, please."

And that's when his patience runs out.

He sheathes himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, growling roughly into your hair, and the stretch is mind-numbing. He stays deep, letting you adjust to the feeling of being split open, and his head drops to your shoulder. His eyes are locked on where you're joined, your pussy stretched around him almost obscenely.

"Would'ja look at that," he mumbles to himself, rocking in and out slowly as he turns his head to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You reach a hand down curiously, wanting to feel yourself around him, and your jaw drops when your fingers brush where his thickness is forcing your cunt to yield to him. "Knew you could take me…pussy feels s-so fuckin' good, like you were made for me."

You whine pathetically as the ache starts to subside and the need for him to fuck you becomes overwhelming. Pleasure blooms where he's already grazing that heavenly spot again, and you tug his head back by his hair, bringing his attention back up to you.

Everything pauses, just for a moment. You kiss his lips delicately, so much more delicate than he's about to be with your body but, right now, you need him to know that it's more than this for you. More than the sex and the physical intimacy. And the way he kisses you back reassures you beyond a doubt that it's more than this for him, too.

Then, your patience runs out.

"Joel, move."

And suddenly, he's spearing up into that spot deep inside you with reckless abandon, bouncing you on his cock, and you're not entirely sure, but you might actually be screaming.

Your head lolls back, thudding dully against the wall, and he ducks down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue circling the nub as he continues you work you up and down his shaft. The sound your pussy's making around him should be humiliating, but it only spurs him on, the wet squelching echoing loudly over the running water.

"Hear that? That's all you, baby. So fuckin' wet, look at that," and he's watching himself again in awe as he fucks in and out of you. You follow his gaze and, holy shit, he's not kidding. You're absolutely soaking him. "You look so good like this, so goddamn pretty stretched around my cock."

You still haven't completely acclimated to how thick he is, not sure you ever actually will, and the syrupy-sweet pain of him has you clawing at his back. You use the wall as leverage, arching just enough so you can actively meet his thrusts, and the new angle sends you reeling.

"Feels so…full, so full," you gasp, your back inching higher up the wall with the force of his thrusts. "K-keep going…there, Joel, there."

It's not just that one spot he's hitting anymore—fuck, it feels like he's everywhere. The ridge of his cock is rubbing your walls just right and every other thrust fucks deep enough to graze your cervix. You sob at the onslaught of overpowering pleasure, burying your hands in his hair to tether yourself as your brain begins to fizzle.

Just a little more, you only need a little bit more. You can feel the lower half of your body locking down and, as if he can sense exactly what you need, he grinds his cock in as deep as it'll go.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, give it to me," he grits against your throat. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, you're almost there."

The coarse hairs at the base of his cock scrape roughly and a little painfully against your swollen clit as you rock against him, but the slide is still so slick and raw that your thighs begin to quake around his waist, and it's—fuck, it's so…so…

"M'gonna fucking cum—gonna…oh fuck, fuck, Joel," your lips part around what you pray is a silent scream and your body goes rigid, cunt spasming violently around him.

He chokes out a moan as you clamp down impossibly tighter on his cock. "Fuckin' hell, there we go," he rasps out shakily as he fucks you into the wall blindingly hard, letting you ride him through your orgasm.

"So, s-so good. Feels so fuckin' good," he's starting to mumble to himself deliriously, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise. You whimper helplessly as his thrusts get sloppier and more desperate, "Gonna fill you up 'til it's leakin' out…c-can I, pretty girl? Please…bet you'd look so fuckin' good with my cum spillin' out of you—"

Before you can even answer, you feel him throb and then his entire body stills, his cock visibly pulsing as he empties into you. He moans his way through it, his head dropping to your shoulder again to watch himself pump you full of cum just like he said he would.

If you thought you felt full before, it's nothing compared to how you feel right now. He's still so deep, twitching pathetically inside you as he lifts his head to nose at the underside of your jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and you sigh, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

"Christ, Joel, where did that come from?" you rasp out. He chuckles, and his whole body shakes with it, jostling his hips into your sensitive clit. Your pussy flutters around him and his breath hitches, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. He still hasn't pulled out and you have a feeling he doesn't want to.

"Been waitin' a long time for that," he murmurs, meeting your eyes. You smile softly, and your lips command his attention. "Waited a long time for you."

So full of surprises tonight. You’ve traveled with him for years, settled down with your kid, but you never expected this. For him to finally feel the same way you do, to fuck you like that. You’re suddenly extremely thankful he came home in dire need of a shower.

You run your hands up his chest, settling one on his shoulder and burying the other in his hair. The dirt, the grime—it's all gone now, replaced by your release and the sweat of your exertion. He smells so good, just like your fancy shampoo. Just like home.

You lean in to kiss him deeply and he melts into you, his lips soft and warm against yours. When you part, you're met with that look again. The one he gave you after you asked him to shower with you, and that he hasn't stopped giving you since. Like he's observing you, contemplating you.

You recognize it now—it's hope.

"I've been waiting a long time for you too, Joel."

He kisses you again, holding you close as the water goes ice cold.

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[eternally-racing]

keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent. 

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?”  Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it. 

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit. 

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways. 

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that. 

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl. 

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well. 

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin.  “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?” 

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that. 

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you. 

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”  

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both. 

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.” 

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries. 

 Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up. 

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

[ellecdc]

Okay after many many thoughts I think I've got it!

Barty showing up to the gryffindor quidditch after party (cause James and Sirius are great players and know what they're doing) bloody and bruised cause he overheard some butthurt slytherins talking shit about James and their girl. And he wasn't gonna let that slide.

I'm not sure if it's clear, but this is in regards to the darksun x reader were talking about yesterday 😅

oooooooof ok.......*throws this at you all and runs* NEW SHIP ALERT: I'm new to this, be nice to me hahahahaha

poly!darksun x fem!reader at a bloody Gryffindor afterparty

CW: Barty shows up bloody and bruised but he's chuffed about it, reader won't stop slapping Peter [it's not that serious], Sirius is not that serious -> pairing = james potter x reader x barty crouch jr

It had been perhaps only 25 minutes since the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw game ended and the afterparty in Gryffindor tower was already in full swing.

And what Remus meant by full swing was that Sirius was literally swinging from the chandelier, Marlene and Lily were challenging one another to a game of ‘who could spin the most times without getting sick’ (which Remus felt was a game that everyone was going to lose), and you and Peter were halfway through a very intense muggle card game called slap which did indeed involve slapping and, apparently, swearing and trash talk. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” Peter muttered as he rubbed the back of his hands dejectedly.

“Gonna have to be faster than that, Wormy.” You taunted as you collected his pile of cards.

“Oi, if she has so much as one welt on the back of her hand, Pete; there will be hell to pay.” James called as he came up behind you.

You turned to look at James then, and Remus was sure your smile was nearly blinding in your excitement and energy if James’ lovesick look was anything to go by.

“Yeah, yeah Prongs; she’s sodding winning by a landslide anyways, no need to get your knickers in a twist.” Peter muttered (rather petulantly for only having lost a round of a silly card game if you asked Remus).

“I don’t think it’s Prongs you have to worry about, my dear Wormy.” Sirius called from his new home in the chandelier, nodding towards the entrance as Barty stepped through the portrait hole. 

Remus watched as both you and James seemed to melt now that your third was here. He knew that it hadn’t been easy persuading Barty to participate in such “Gryffindorian displays of pompous pride” as he had called it, but you had somehow been able to convince him to celebrate the team’s wins if not only for James’ sake. 

And, as Sirius would pretend, maybe a little bit for his sake as well. Remus didn’t have the heart (nor the patience) to tell him that was a fat chance. 

“I’m not afraid of Junior.” Pete muttered darkly as he watched you reset the game in front of them. 

“Circe’s tits…perhaps you should be, Pete.” Sirius bit out through a grimace, causing the group to all turn their attention to the Slytherin boy.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure what the Slytherin practice was when getting ready for a celebratory quidditch afterparty, but based on Barty’s current state, it seemed that ritual consisted of at least one fist fight with a particularly angry hippogriff.

“What happened?” You nearly shrieked as you abandoned your card game and you and James made for your boyfriend. 

Barty let out a breath before he broke out into a smile. “Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of something on my way here.”

Remus was sure that the way Barty was grinning at the two of you had to be horribly painful for the busted lip he was currently sporting as his teeth quickly turned a pinky/red colour. 

“And what were you taking care of? A graphorn?” James asked incredulously as you guided Barty to a stool in order to fuss over him.

“Don’t be daft, James. There’s no graphorns in Hogwarts.” Barty waved him off, eyes moving to you as you assessed his face.

“Who did you run into, Barty?” You pressed; voice taking a no-nonsense tone that had Peter and Remus sharing a nervous look. 

“Just some Ravenclaws who were a little disappointed by the end of today’s match, is all.” He offered happily; pulling you closer towards him from where you were standing between his legs by the back of your thighs, watching you adoringly as you summoned a cloth to dab at his lip. 

“That’s all, is it?” You deadpanned, clearly not buying his story.

“I hardly think you were too fussed over some comment about quidditch scores, Barty.” James chided lovingly. 

“Of course I did! I love quidditch.” Barty spat defensively. 

“Yeah, but you hate the Gryffindor team.” Sirius called from his chandelier. 

“That’s not true! I’m shagging the captain for Salazar’s sake.”

“Okay, well…maybe don’t shout that?” You muttered as you looked around in embarrassment, earning a bark of laughter from James as he rubbed your shoulders consolingly. 

“I don’t know, bubs; I don’t see you risking showing up late and bloody over discourse on match scores.” James continued, clearly finding this more amusing than you were as you angrily cast a glacius on a cup and held it to Barty’s jaw which was quickly purpling in colour. 

“Okay, perhaps they said a few other things; it’s no big deal.” Barty offered dismissively, though Remus (and likely you and James) noticed the way that his grip seemed to strengthen on your thighs at his admission.

“Yeah? Like what?” You encouraged. 

Barty let out a defeated sigh as he finally turned his gaze to you. “You know I don’t like people talking about you; either of you.” He admitted quietly. 

You shook your head in disappointment but let out a sympathetic sigh.

“Wait, what’d they say about our girl?” James said then, craning his neck around you in order to look at Barty pointedly.

“It doesn’t matter Jamie! It appears he’s already taken care of it, yeah?” You hissed as you swatted at him with the cloth that you had been tending to Barty with. 

James quickly caught the end of the cloth and used it to pull you into him, planting a smacking kiss to your face. 

“I did take care of it!” Barty repeated excitedly. “Can I have a kiss?” He asked sweetly, smiling at you expectantly as you rubbed James’ kiss off of your cheek. 

“Absolutely not.” You grumbled as you ignored his disbelieving scoff.

“Why not!?” He cried out as you stepped out from between his legs.

“Barty, I am not rewarding you for bad behaviour.” You declared as you plopped yourself down in front of Peter again, ordering him to reset your card game. 

James quickly looked between the two of you before stepping between Barty’s legs to give him his own kiss.

“You are such a simp, James Potter.” Remus taunted under his breath as to not alert you to your boyfriend currently enabling your other boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah; laugh it up now. But I get to watch you try to wrestle Pads out of the chandelier later, so I don’t think you have a leg to stand on, Moons.” 

“He can sleep up there tonight, for all I care.” Remus muttered petulantly as he crossed his arms.

Sirius wouldn’t sleep up there tonight; Remus knew it, James knew it, Sirius knew it, likely the whole bloody school knew it. But Remus would pretend he wasn’t as big a simp as James Potter, at least a little bit longer, in order to preserve what little superiority he held for the time being.

[syoounn]

Them trying period pain simulator

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Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, Fyodor, Sigma

Chuuya

Chuuya quirks a brow at your random suggestion. It's an odd question for sure. He blinks, raising his head from the crook of your neck.

“A period pain….Simulator…?” He echoes, confusion lacing his voice. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you a little more directly. “Why on earth would you want me to do that, Doll-“

As soon as you explain the purpose of the simulator, He laid there, relaxed, and let you set up this “pain simulator” thing.

"Fine.. I can take it even the highest level anyway.." He said, sounding cool and not fond of the idea.

Chuuya wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect, but he knew it was going to be bad. He just didn’t know HOW bad.

The moment the simulator turned on, Chuuya inhaled sharply, arching his back with a small groan of pain.

“F—-k-“ He cursed, his hands clenching into fists. The simulated pains weren’t at all gentle whatsoever.

Chuuya groaned again, shifting his body a bit to try and get more comfortable, but in return, the pain only intensified. Chuuya tried his best to muffle his pained noises by pressing his hands over his mouth, keeping his gaze up at the ceiling.

Chuuya then heard you giggling as he raised his head, looking at you. He gave you a look that was simultaneously annoyed but also kind of pitiful.

“Y’think this is funny? I feel like I’m dying, Doll.”

Chuuya let out a sound that was a strange mix between a pained whine and a scoff.

“Not fair,” He grumbles, shifting his body onto his side. “This thing is cranked up t-to 10 in intensity… ain’t ya’ gonna turn it down a bit..?”

"What do you mean? it's only level 4.." You said.

Chuuya froze, his body stiffening up a bit from hearing that. He had thought that the simulator was at the highest level of intensity the whole time, but now that he heard you say that… that made it worse.

“T-this is only f-fucking LEVEL 4?!” He asked, turning his head to look at you with an almost frightened expression.

A few minutes later and Chuuya was already a complete mess. He was clinging to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and his arms were wrapped tightly around your body. Chuuya was trying his best to suppress the whimpers and the sniffles of pain that he was letting out. He still had a bit of his stubborn dignity, but he was crumbling quickly, slowly losing the battle against trying to look tough.

"I thought you could do it until the highest level.." you said.

Chuuya groans against your skin,

“H-highest level my a—ass-“ He hissed, his voice shaky and breathless.

Chuuya continued to cling to you, pressing himself against you like a small, clingy puppy. His breathing was slowly returning to normal, but he still was trembling slightly. Perhaps this is the only way to get rid of his "coolness"

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Dazai

Dazai is just clinging to you as he usually does as he tilts his head up at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He’s heard of those things before, though he isn’t exactly sure what it is. He’ll admit he is curious.

“A period pain simulator, huh? What, you wanna see if I can handle worse than you..?” He teases lightly, letting his arms fall from your body as he sits up, turning to face you.

"You think you can handle it?" You questioned.

He gives you a smirk, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Darling, I’m a grown man; I can handle anything life throws at me. I'm not saying I’m not gonna whine and complain while I’m at it, but I’m sure whatever that thing can dish out, I can handle~”

Dazai grins, his words full of confidence. He figures he’s dealt with far worse things in life, so something that’s just supposed to simulate period cramps shouldn’t be THAT bad… Right?

Dazai watches you in silence as you set the simulator up on him, still wearing a smile as he’s sure he’s able to withstand the feeling. But as soon as you turn it on, his entire demeanour changes.

His eyes widen as unexpected pain courses through his body, his jaw clenches at the uncomfortable feeling, and he lets out an exhale that sounds almost like a gasp.

The room filled with Dazai's sound of whimper and groan as you decided to turn it off.. Chuuya lets out a small sigh of relief as you turn off the simulator. He then shoots you a look, his cheeks a little flushed, and he looks rather needy looking.. is this his plan all along..?

You look at him with suspicious look he just smiles. "Ahh..~ I've been in pain.. don't i deserve to have a-..

You then turn on the simulator again. Dazai's eyes widen in surprise as the simulator simulates the cramps again. He lets out another pained groan, his hands clutching at the bed spread as the pain returns.

“Bella- turn it off- ah-“ He groaned, looking up at you through half lidded eyes.

Looks like you’ll have fun torturing him?

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Fyodor

I don't even know how you manage to convince him, and perhaps you can see this other side of him, but anyways... He snickers lightly, seemingly entertained by the idea. A smirk rests on his lips. "You want to see how well I can endure menstrual cramp simulations? How intriguing."

He takes in the sight of the device, his expression neutral, yet his gaze slightly narrowed, as if studying it closely. "I must admit, I am quite interested to see if this simulator will manage to mimic the pain experienced during a woman's menstrual cycle."

"Alright.. I'll start it up, " you said.

A slight wince appears on his face as the simulator begins its work, the first wave of discomfort making itself known. Nevertheless, he remains silent, determined not to let it affect him too, obviously. He does his best to maintain a neutral facade, though his eyes betray a hint of strain.

The simulator's simulated cramps get increasingly more intense with each passing moment, and Fyodor can't help but feel his determination beginning to crack. Sweat beads on his temple, and his pale face flushes with effort.

Yet, he continues to bite back any further sounds of discomfort, refusing to give it the satisfaction. He mutters through clenched teeth, "How much longer...?"

"It's only level 4..." You said.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, a hint of disbelief flickering in their depths. Level 4? He'd barely endured the first few waves of pain. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. "How many more levels are there?"

"Like 10 levels.." you said.

Fyodor continues to suffer in silence, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth clenched tightly together, stubbornly refusing to give the simulator the satisfaction of breaking his composure. The pain is increasing, getting almost unbearable, and he struggles to keep the sounds of strained gasps from spilling past his lips, struggling to push through the immense discomfort that has taken hold of his body.

"Do you want it to stop..?" you asked.

He opens his mouth to respond, then stops, his pride warring with his sense of self-preservation. Admitting defeat is not exactly his style, but the pain is excruciating and nearly unbearable. After a few moments, he grits out, through clenched teeth, "Tch. Very well. Turn it off."

"How was it?" you asked.

He takes a moment to gather his composure, his breathing still somewhat shaky from the ordeal he'd just endured. He runs a hand through his damp hair and shakes head slightly, trying to clear it. When he finally responds, his voice is slightly strained, and he allows just a hint of pain to creep into it. "Quite... intense. I must admit, it was even worse than I'd imagined."

He exhales slowly and lets his gaze drift over to the device, still feeling the aftereffects of the pain. "You certainly chose quite the... interesting way to spend our time together, my dear."

A sly smile twists his lips. "And here I thought you simply desired to see me squirm in pain."

You then got surprised by that.. he totally caught you. He moves a hand to his stomach, rubbing it in a slow, almost comforting gesture. "However, despite the rather... unpleasant experience, I can not help but feel a sense of respect. You have certainly managed to find a way to surprise me, dear."

He chuckles softly, his voice regaining some of its usual calm. "Still, do not expect me to agree to such a thing again anytime soon. That... experience was not exactly how I'd planned to spend my evening."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his smirk turning more cheeky. "Now, if you're in the mood for more pleasurable activities, I would be more than happy to oblige, my dear."

Well, i guess good luck to yourself tonight...

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Sigma

Sigma thought over it for a moment before responding to you.

“You want me to experience what it feels to have a period?” He asked now, looking at you with a pout, but not saying no.

"You don't have to if you don't want.." you said.

He thought over it again and then finally made a decision.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it. Just for you, though.” He said before he removed the hair from his eyes and then looked at you with a shy and nervous expression.

You then prepared the simulator he sat down properly on the bed, mentally preparing himself for the pain he’s about the experience, not knowing what he’s gotten himself into.

The pain simulator then started to turn on and Sigma started to feel like something is tightening up inside of him, a burning sensation as the pain started to spread all over his abdomen, he gripped his shirt now as pained groans escaped his lips, looking at you again, wondering if this was worth it.

The pain just started to become worse and worse as time went by, Sigma now started to whimper out quietly, the pain growing more unbearable, he felt like crying now because of the pain, he just didn’t know how you could handle it, the pain and the cramps was awful.

You saw Sigma’s expression as you turned it off and felt bad.. as you spoke.

"Are you okay?"

When the simulation was turned off, Sigma just sat there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before nodding at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine..” He said quietly in a shaky voice, still a bit in shock and surprised at how painful it is.

Yes it was unbelievable to him that you actually had to suffer from this every single month, dealing with the pain and the cramps, and yet somehow you can still act like your normal self, it just makes him want to do everything he can to make you feel better whenever you are going through your period, he just wanted to protect you from everything.

He looked back at you, watching the concern in your eyes. He just wanted to comfort you and make you feel better. He wanted to spoil you.

He then opened his arms to you, signalling for you to join him, which you did. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace, pulling you to rest on his chest, nuzzling into you, letting out a quiet sigh as he did so.

As then these few days, you notice Sigma become affectionate and spoil you more, ahh.. he's such a sweetie.

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(Sorry for not updating for a long time! i promise I'll update more soon!!) ( =＾ω＾)

[sweeterthanficstion]

— take me back to eden || l.s.k

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader --- fem pronouns are not used, but written with fem!reader in mind. reader is afab

tags: high school au, college au, re2r leon -> re4r leon pipeline, childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut, a fuck ton of yearning MDNI 18+, male masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex (don't be silly, guys), loss of virginity, hand job, cunnilingus sort of, creampie, praise kink, breeding kink if you squint (sorry...) porn with plot, porn with feelings (like. too many feelings it's sort of gross)

summary: You try to desperately reignite an old friendship with Leon before high school wraps up. What starts out as a simple effort to mend things blossoms into something you couldn't have anticipated. But as summer ends, Leon’s moving away for College, leaving you in Raccoon City. Or so you thought.

word count: 10k ish

a/n: gosh, hi, it's been a while!! i've been fighting writer's block for nearly a year, and it definitely was NOT part of my plan to post leon smut before the knight fic, but cough ovulation week cough and uh.. this happened? big thanks to cressie for feeding the brainworms, and vivi for cheering me on, and of course eva for encouraging me to write again <33

also for the sake of my own sanity we're gonna pretend kairo was released in the 1990s because i just REALLY wanted them to watch kairo. and if you can catch all the song/movie references i make throughout this you'll get a gold star, anyway, enjoy! <3

playlist ⭑ masterlist ⭑AO3

If someone offered Leon a thousand dollars to pinpoint exactly where in the timeline of your friendship you’d grown apart, he wouldn’t be able to. Maybe it was just fate taking her course, friends growing apart. He’s tried to make peace with it, chalking it up to the inevitability of growing apart, another lesson in the long list of things he’s had to learn to accept.

But it doesn’t stop him from missing you. More than he’s willing to admit, even to himself.

Between college applications and finals, Leon’s life is already at full capacity, he’s fast-tracking, tunnel vision set on finishing senior year and getting into Stanford so he can get the hell out of Raccoon City. And he’s got it, he’s got this.

But then there you are, barrelling back into his life with all the force of something impossible to ignore, as if you’d never really left his orbit, as if the universe decided it wasn’t quite done with the two of you yet. Your smile hasn’t changed, still sweet and sticky like molasses. It’s disarming when  you ask if he can tutor you, voice light and breezy, as if no time has passed between you at all— just a few sessions here and there! You tell him, just to save you from failing another semester of chemistry.

He agrees nearly blindly, the words out of his mouth before he has time to think them through.

It has been so long since you’d even talked to him properly, anything other than a ‘hi’ or a ‘bye’ muttered in the school hallways before you’re whisked away by your friends. He’s honestly elated you’d approached him at all—he tried not to show it, though.

And he did great the first few sessions. Sure, it was more than awkward at first—but Leon was partly thankful for it. It left little room for him to entertain the idea of staying friends with you again for long. You’d create a simple routine together wherein you’d come over to his place, he’d teach you everything from organic to physical chemistry, then you’d bid him goodnight and leave. Simple. Predictable. Routine.

But then you started to break that routine, a variable that he hadn’t accounted for. You’d kick his foot under the dining table while you worked on homework together, laugh at his jokes even when they’re painfully bad because you think it’s cute. Then when you have to migrate upstairs after his parents come home from work, you’d settle onto his bed, glancing around his room and teasing him about how little he’d changed—still the same movie posters, still the same boy you once knew. 

You tell him about your day, he tells you about his, then you’ll go as far as to stay a little longer some nights, both of you acutely aware of the time but not doing a thing about it. 

He finds with time, he’s learnt to enjoy your company again. It isn’t so tense, no longer like walking on the glass shards of your previously shattered relationship. It’s easier now, as if none of the vast ocean separating you was ever there to begin with. He tries not to dwell on the fact that this newfound relationship is built entirely on the twenty dollar bill you hand him each night.

Then one night Leon’s mother invites you to stay for dinner, he expects you to politely decline, hand him the twenty dollar bill for the tuition, and leave. 

But much to Leon’s surprise, you don’t.

It’s catalytic, like a domino effect that he’s helpless against stopping. It gets so much worse when you offer to stay behind to help clean up. All but glowing as you strike up casual conversation with his mother, as if you’d never stopped visiting over the past six years. You’re a sweet talker, always have been, you compliment his mother on her cooking, ask her for the recipe, she tells you you’ll just have to come over and help her make it one night. You laugh, meeting Leon’s gaze as you tell her you just might have to.

God, Leon’s so fucked.

Absolutely fucked when he catches himself thinking about you in the middle of class, eyes trained like a hawk on the door to the classroom, waiting to see if you’ll show or not. You don’t. He’s not really surprised. He finds he doesn’t exactly mind though. Frankly, it’s none of his business whether you show or not, and a part of him likes the extra attention he gets out of it when you ask him all the questions you’d know if you did show up to classes while he’s tutoring you.

You’ll have your pen between your teeth like you always do, run a hand through your hair as you watch him work, bat those stupidly pretty eyelashes at him when you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. 

“None of this is making sense,” You huff, shoving your head into your hands, elbows braced on his dining room table. 

You catch the glimpse of sympathy that flashes across Leon’s face when you peek at him through your fingers, and eternally cringe at how you must look.

“Just one more chapter, then we’ll be done.” He promises, tapping the eraser end of his pencil on your notebook. 

He’s got that boyish smile on his lips when you meet his gaze, his thin-framed glasses perched atop his face make him look so much cuter than you remember him being when you were kids.

Your heart constricts in the familiar way it always does nowadays. A sickening reminder that you have a secret; closely guarded in your heart, tucked away by lock and key. You’re in love with your best friend.

Well, your once best friend. The term "best friends" feels outdated, like it belongs to a version of you that no longer exists. It’s partly your fault— well, mostly your fault. The rift between you didn’t just appear; you carved it out with every sorry excuse you’d made at fourteen when you’d chosen your flashy new friends over time spent with Leon.

But what were you to do? Middle school turned to High School and you’d gone from the sad lonely girl at the back of the class to someone worth looking at. 

And Leon? Well, you convinced yourself he was only dragging you down, or that’s what you told yourself to help to ease the guilt every time you brushed him off.

Was it shitty of you to pay your way back into his life? Yeah, but you’re also sort of a coward when it comes to confrontation. There were a million better ways to try to fix what you broke, but here you are, handing Leon twenty bucks a week for a chance to be close to him again.

Either way life moves on, and you find yourself falling for him. Stupidly, helplessly, completely.

Leon finds he’s drowning just as you are.

He’s so far past the point of just fucked. He’s utterly infatuated at this point. You’re stunning, every bit as beautiful as the word allows, beautiful as he watches you across the gym at a morning assembly. You’re busy talking to one of those jocks on the football team, Calvin? Chris? He can’t remember, he doesn’t care. Or that's what he tells himself.

He cares. He cares entirely too much, especially when you curl a lock of your hair around your finger, smiling at whatever bullshit Chris must be spouting with that mouth of his. Leon sinks into his seat further, diverts his attention to the front of the auditorium, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. He’s desperate to ignore what definitely seems like you flirting with someone who definitely isn’t himself. 

He’s not jealous though, Leon isn’t jealous. ‘Course not.

That’s what he repeats to himself later that night, alone in his bed when his hand curls around the length of his hard dick, tip weeping as he gives a pitiful tug, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. 

He tries incredibly desperately to stifle the whine that bubbles up his throat, hand moving on its own accord as his eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until he starts getting light headed, too caught up chasing his own high. He comes embarrassingly fast, one, two, three, four more pumps and he’s done for, your name the last thing on his lips.

Leon swallows thickly before the crushing reality that he’d imagined you as he came fills him with a burst of shame. He tries to push the thought aside as quickly as it comes, groaning as he moves to sit on the edge of his bed. 

Yeah. He’s fucked.

A few weeks later, Leon finds himself sitting on the bleachers after class. He wouldn’t be caught dead out here less than a few weeks ago, but you had given him such a sweet smile when you’d told him you had cheer practice, asked him if he’d be okay waiting just a little before going back to his place for tuition.

It’s not so bad, he thinks, as he flicks through the songs on his cheap mp3 player. But even with that distraction, you’re far more captivating. You're dazzling, to say the least—dress glimmering under the afternoon sun as you go through your routine. Leon watchs and tries not to stare. 

It’s when you walk up to him though, all but shimmering, glowing under golden hour, that it hits him like a freight train all at once. He’s fallen horrifically far from his pedestal, what he feels for you now is so much more than what he did for you as kids. Not just as a friend, and yet much more than a schoolboy crush. 

The next few events unfold very quickly—you sit down next to him on the bleachers, the skin of your thigh pressing to his where your dress rides up. He freezes, his own skin flushing a shade of pink that he hopes goes unnoticed. You press your ear against his headset, stick your tongue out between your lips as if you’re in dire concentration, trying to hear what’s playing.

“What’re you listening to?” You ask when you pull away, pushing the headset off his head before you slide them over your own ears. 

You light up at what you hear, “The Smiths? Seriously, Leon, you have not changed.”

He rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair to fix it from where your hands had mused it. “They’re good,” His voice is soft despite the protest in his tone. It’s then, you realise, that he’s blushing. 

Cute, cute, cute, you think. There is a particular warmth that blossoms in your chest seeing him like this, one that only Leon can really elicit.

You smile brighter,  “Yeah, I know. I love The Smiths.”

Leon looks starstruck. Of course you do. 

It doesn’t stop there, much to Leon’s own disappointment. He’d hoped after the school year was over you’d go back to not talking to him, and he could move past this and never think about it again (yeah, as if). 

But you don’t. At this point he should just stop wishing for anything at all. Clearly the universe is working against him in the fickle way it always has.

You call him every few nights, ask how he is, what he’s doing, if he’s busy. Things friends would ask each other. Do you count as friends? Leon would like to think so. But then again, he probably shouldn’t be picturing a friend’s face when he’s tugging at his own dick.

You should come over sometime. You say over the phone one night, voice sweet even over the shitty receptor of his home landline. His back straightens a little at your words, the lilt in your voice, as he leans against the counter in his kitchen.

He imagines you lying on your bed, feet kicked up as you hold your flashy new flip-phone between your shoulder and your ear. He wonders what you’re wearing. 

Hello? Your voice crackles, and he’s immediately pulled from his thoughts. C’mon, it’s not that bad of an idea. You laugh on the other end.

He hesitates. Yes, yes, yes, his mind screams at him. Well, I mean… what for?

Lame fucking answer.

Do I need a reason to invite my friend over?

He goes a little rigid at that, mulling over his next words as he feels heat climb up his neck. So we’re friends again now?

The line goes quiet for so long he’s sure you’ve abandoned your phone and left the line open. He nearly hangs up, letting out a sigh as he goes to rehook the landline back on the wall before your voice filters through at the last minute.

Of course we are, silly! Well, I mean— I know the secret Kennedy pasta recipe now.

He smiles then. That you do.

When Leon gets to your place, the cold Summer night air is sharp against his skin. He’s barely touched the doorbell when the front door swings open, the wide smile on your face is contagious—a spontaneous reaction sets off in his heart. 

“Hi,” You grin.

“Hey,” He greets, albeit a little awkwardly. 

You’re endeared, to say the least.

You lead him through the familiar hallways of your home, past family photos he’s seen countless times before, into the family media room, tucked away at the back of the house. It hasn’t changed much from the last time he was here—God, what was that? Six, eight years ago?—he recalls fond memories of escaping your parent’s annual Christmas parties to watch Christmas Mountain while snuggled up on the couch together instead.

“What about that one?” You hum, legs pulled up onto the large plush sofa in your media room, tucking your knees under your chin as you wave a hand at one of the titles in the box of your father’s old DVDs.

“You wanna watch Kairo?” Leon sounds amused, pulling the title out of the box before handing it to you.

You shrug, flipping the case over in your hand, honestly having no idea what the movie is about or what you’re getting yourself into. You just want him to pick a damn movie and get on with it. He’s always been like this, indecisive and hesitant about most things—you’ve always been the opposite, headstrong and impulsive. Yet, the two of you have always been tied together with a gold thread of string, your mother likes to say so, anyway.

You and Leon. Leon and You. An apple and an orange, not the same yet still belonging side by side.

It’s Leon’s voice that pulls you back to the present, taking the case from your hands before he cracks it open and insert the disc it into the silver DVD player. The screen flickers to life, and you quit chasing the DVD logo with your gaze as it bounces across the screen to fish for the TV remote as Leon joins you on the couch. 

He sits at the opposite end, and you’re acutely aware of the distance he’s put between the both of you. You’re not surprised at how your heart sinks at the implications of his actions.

Leon finds the remote before you do, silence settling over the room like thick fog as he flicks through the DVD menu. You will yourself not to get too freaked out by the eerie music or the haunting silhouette of the girl pressed against the screen.

“I didn’t think you liked horror movies,” Leon muses, not really meeting your gaze as he flicks through to press play. “Most people I know say it’s not all that great but—” And he rambles. God, he rambles and you want to kiss his stupid mouth shut.

The first thirty minutes of the movie are slow but not short of horrifying. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or frustrated when all Leon does is talk about SFX or behind the scene cuts, or how they did this and how they did that —endearingly sweet in a way that makes your heart flutter. You’re semi-grateful for the distraction.

He’s a sweetheart in every sense of the word, asking if you’re okay after you startle from a jumpscare. Partially annoyed until you realise he’s not even teasing you. You find it twice as sweet, though, when you notice him all but staring at you in your periphery.

Charming blue eyes that set you a little more on edge.

“The movie’s on the screen, not my face,” You tease, finally meeting his gaze when you glance back at him, kicking him across the couch playfully. 

He swallows, praying for the upteenth time that you don’t notice the burning of his skin he feels at getting caught, before he glances back at you.

“I mean, I think I’d much rather look at you than the movie,” He shoots back, the honesty in his voice surprising even himself.

The air leaves his lungs the moment you turn to look at him, nearly giving yourself whiplash. Leon’s sure he should find this moment awkward, scary, any number of things, but he’s too distracted. You’re so tempting, sweet doll eyes, lashes that kiss your cheeks as you smile at him, and again, he finds himself starstruck. 

Your gaze holds his for a moment longer than it should, a gentle tilt of your head and he’s done for. The teasing smile lingering on your lips slips into something softer, the room feels smaller, the space between you even more so. 

“You alright?” You hum, you’re not even sure what you’re saying, you can’t hear your own voice over the blood thrumming in your ears.

Leon doesn’t really hear you either, he tries to, he does, but then your gaze drops to his lips and— God, is this happening? He’d ask you to pinch him if his voice wasn’t stuck in his damn throat.

You search his face, trying to find any hint of jest, but all you see is the way his eyes linger on you, tracing the curves of your lips, the line of your jaw. For the first time in a long time you find yourself nervous to kiss a boy. There’s a current between you, energy fizzling in a way that pricks your skin—fireworks, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Before you can give yourself the chance to second guess it, you close the distance, your lips brushing against his. His breath hitches, and you smile against his lips, a gentle hand cupping his jaw, curling into his soft hair. The rest of the room drowns out, all he can hear is his heart beating in his ears and all he can feel is the flush of his own skin and you. Impossibly close in a way that’s already got him hook, line and sinker.

The kiss immediately and successfully turns Leon’s brain to mush, letting out a shaky breath as you incline your head, a soft groan falling past your lips and tumbling into his. Your shoulders drop, another arm looping around his neck. It’s a lot at once, your body against his, the thrumming of his heart, the way he tries desperately not to fuck up the kiss, or give away that he hasn’t exactly had much experience in this department at all.

Leon only realises he’s still rigid when you pull away, your breath a hot puff of air against his face. He thinks you must’ve laughed, cheeks heating up, but then his eyes flutter open and you’ve got a look on your face that he can’t place. Your hand smooths down the golden locks of his hair.

“Are you nervous?” Your voice is so impossibly soft.

Leon blushes deeper. “Is it obvious?”

“A little,” You smile.

“I don’t– I haven’t–” He stutters, the words coming out a jumbled mess that makes your heart ache a little.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” You rush to reassure when you realise what must be going through his mind. “Just… follow my lead, yeah?”

He nods, tight lipped then.

Your laugh is sticky sweet, alluring in a way that makes him feel all too light-headed. You lean in again, “Relax.”

He lets out a breath, and you take the opportunity of his parted lips to deepen the kiss properly, the muscle of your tongue flattening out against his bottom lip. Leon lets out a strangled moan—fireworks burst across your skin for the second time.

“You can hold me,” You mumble against his mouth, hands tightening in his hair. “If it’ll make you less nervous.”

Leon swallows thickly, nodding as his nose brushes against yours, lips already red and aching. One of his hands tentatively moves back into your hair, he tilts his head, trying to deepen the kiss the same way you had. His movements are albeit clumsy, uncertain; betraying his inexperience, but there’s a raw sincerity in his attempt that leaves you charmed. Slowly, he slides down against the sofa, pulling you with him, his body sinks into the cushions until he’s lying down, your body resting atop his.

You want more, more, more . Want to press your tongue to the seam of his lips, part them, taste him properly—you almost do, growing just as eager as he is as you push yourself higher atop him, bracketing his waist with your thighs as you press your lips to his harder. 

Your nose knocks his glasses askew when moving your head, and you feel him tense ever-so underneath you, as if realising it at the same time, and you can sense his confidence wavering.

You pull back just an inch then, he all but groans in protest. His nose bumps against yours, lips parted and eager for more. “Slow down,” You giggle. “M’not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” He mumbles, his voice laced with embarrassment. The warmth from his blush radiates under your palm.

Without missing another beat, you reach up to carefully slide his glasses off his face. Leon blinks up at you. He looks like he’s short-circuited, giving way to a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. 

“There,” you whisper, folding the frames before setting the glasses atop the coffee table. “How’s that?”

You’re cruel, though, don’t give him a moment to gather his thoughts, let alone respond. It’s a bit of cat and mouse to you; tease, tease, tease. Gve in just a little, pull away a little more. 

You’re pressing your lips back to his again before another moment can pass. But Leon doesn’t protest; how could he when you’re so close, your bodies pressed together like this?

Leon’s confidence grows with each swipe of your tongue against his. His hands grow bolder, they move over your shoulder blades, down your spine, pressing against the curve of your back. A soft groan tumbles from your lips, your hips pushing down against his, he lets out a shaky moan in kind.

Cute, cute, cute. You’d drown in the soft sounds that tumble from his lips given the chance.

Your hands begin to wander, trailing down his chest, over his beating heart. You rub circles against his chest, as if to satiate the burning desire that’s stuck between his ribs. 

Your lips, on the other hand, begin their descent.

You start with the corner of his mouth, then you follow the line of his jaw, down the column of his neck, the divot of his throat (that rewards you with a mewl). You decorate his collar in a blossoming painting of delicate bruises, tug down the collar of his shirt enough to reveal as much skin as possible for your lips to work over.

A soft smile curls on your lips even as you kiss him, and you realise with a flicker of amusement that he’s shaking beneath you—It’s an endearing quiver, like a newborn fawn finding its first footing. His hands tighten in the fabric of your shirt, holding on as if trying to anchor himself.

“You okay?” You hum as you pull away, Leon assumes you’re gracing him with a breather before he registers your hands working his shirt up his body. 

It’d be rude to let you do all the work, so he shifts enough to tug it over his own head, discarding it on the floor of your theatre room bathed in blue—the movie long forgotten.

Leon’s large hands settle back against the swell of your hips, his thumb runs over the bone of your hip through the fabric of your shorts. He gives you a gentle nod. “M’alright,” He mumbles, but his voice has grown thick, stuck in the cavern of his throat.

“Do you… want to keep going?” You ask softly, your voice is tentative, as if dipping your toes into the deep end, testing the waters.

His mind screams yes, he settles for a “ Please ,” that comes out shakier than he’d like instead.

Your hands make quick work, moving down to undo the button of his jeans, fumbling clumsily in the wake of your excitement that you try incredibly hard to school. For the most part you do, refusing to cave too fast.

You’re acutely aware this is Leon’s first time—he doesn’t have to tell you, you can tell by his shaky voice, and shaky hands, by the way he looks at you as if you’ve just about hung the stars and the planets. To be fair, he’s always looked at you like that. Something akin to a sweet puppy.

Jesus Christ, you’re losing it.

When you finally pop the button, tug the zipper down achingly slow, Leon mewls, his hand on your hip curling into your flesh bruisingly. Fuck.

Your gaze meets his once again. “I’m gonna– I’m gonna go slow, okay? You’ve gotta tell me to stop if you don’t like anything, alright?” As desperate as you are to get your hands on him, you’d never forgive yourself if you ruined his first time.

Leon nods like he’s on autopilot, dutifully, as if the idea of you ruining anything for him is a stupid one. “Yeah, I will– Just, please, ” His voice grows impossibly quiet, “Don’t think I can wait–”

God. You go a little lightheaded.

Your hands make quick work of his jeans then, pushing them down along with his boxers. You’re blessed with a heavenly sight. His cock, pretty and flushed and all but drooling. It’s nearly erotic, has your head swimming. 

“Jesus, Leon.” You huff, eyes wide as you look back up to meet his gaze.

Leon swallows thickly, throat bobbing as his eyes bore into yours, blown wide, rings of blue barely visible. God what a sight. He doesn’t respond, can’t. His throat is thick with something he cannot place. You’re a vision to him like this—hair spilling over your shoulders, framing your head like a halo, thick eyelashes that flutter sweetly down at him. His cheeks heat, neck growing impossibly hot. 

Your hands dance over his stomach, his abdomen, tracing the contours of his skin as you watch his face to gauge each reaction, each shiver, every tremble of his lips.

You’re cruel, you’re so impossibly cruel and, oh— Nevermind. You’re an angel.

You giggle at his blissed out expression as your hand curls around the base of his dick. “That what you needed?” 

Leon’s eyes flutter shut, head tips back as your hand inches up. He resists the urge to buck right into the tunnel of your palm. “Mmhmm…”

“Can’t speak now either?” You coo sweetly.

Something soft bubbles up past his throat, a mewl, a whine, you don’t know what to call it, but God does it make your cunt flutter in time with your heart. “C’mon, Leon, let me hear you.”

And God does he.

You pull whimper after whimper from his pretty lips, tumbling out like prayer each time. You are the chappel he worships at, the altar where he falls to his feet. He thinks if he died like this he could be happy, would go willingly, accept his fate—

“D’you want… more?” The words echo around in his skull.

He couldn’t have nodded faster. 

You’re both giddy and giggling as you pull away, his hands eager as they pull your shorts and underwear off at once. If you could memorise the way he looked at you right now, you would. Leon’s eyes rove over your thighs, the space between them that glistens, in a way that makes you shy despite the hesitance in his own. 

“You’re pretty,” He says thickly, and there’s not a tease behind his words, not a jest. He says them with such sincerity you stutter to a halt. 

You blink, caught in his gaze. Leon watches you carefully, his own eyes wide, as if he’s not sure whether he’s overstepped some invisible boundary. The heat in your cheeks burns a little brighter, and you find yourself instinctively breaking eye contact, glancing away to gather yourself.

His words feel as if they’ve lodged themself in between the left and right ventricles of your heart. Suddenly, you feel the need to close the distance again, your hand slipping to cup his face, brushing a thumb over the flush of his cheek. 

He hums against your lips, hands climbing up your back, under your shirt, slipping under the strap of your bra. 

Your hips are gentle, moving over his instinctively, like something written into your DNA. The subtle brush over the underside of his length has him gasping—you preen internally at the reaction.

But you’re impatient, as impatient as he is, eager for more, eager to take, eager to please. You sink down over him slowly, revel in the silky stretch you’re graced with, moaning around his tongue as your heart feels like it’ll burst out of your chest.

The feeling is near incandescent to Leon, his mind already too far gone. 

“Eyes open, baby,” Your voice comes, shattering the haze of his mind. 

Baby, baby, baby.

He’s hardwired to comply.

You’re something holy above him, head crested by the glow of the moon spilling through the windows, wings of starlight, angel-song falling from your lips as your hips move over his. He wants to swallow each sound. You have the grace to let him.

Your body presses to his as you lean down, chasing his lips in a kiss that surely rewires his brain chemistry. Each moan you let out is like honey in his mouth, sweet and addicting, his tongue pushes past your lips, seeking out as much as you’ll give him.

You’re ecstasy. Entirely too addicting; Leon can’t get enough. Each time you sink down on him again, he’s sure it steals more breath from his lungs. And with earth-shattering realisation, he knows he’s not going to last. “M’close.”

He’s puppy-dog cute like this, pout on his lips, a cinch between his eyebrows that you smooth with your thumb. “I can tell.”

His hand moves to where yours are on his chest, taking one in his own, intertwining your fingers. It’s so fucking over for you. 

“I can’t—” His hips buck up into yours, but his movements are reserved, you clock his desperation to hold out immediately.

“God, Leon, please do. I want you to.”

It doesn’t take much longer than that. He comes within three, four, five ruts of your hips against his, a warning on his lips before you pull off him and his release coats the muscles of his abdomen. You’re left aching, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not when you have him underneath you like this.

“Shit, God,” He groans. “That was… fast.”

You sense the apology on his tongue and shake your head before he can get there.

“No, don’t. It was… it was good.”

Leon can’t believe his ears. It was good? He did good?

“Yeah?” You hear the anticipation in his voice, higher at the end, a question.

Smiling, you nod. “Uhuh. Plus, we can… Work on it.”

The implication of doing this again sometime is enough to have him mirroring your smile. 

But soon summer’s over and college is starting. You decide to take a year off, figure yourself out. 

But Leon’s always had big dreams. Before you know it he’s packed his life into boxes, ready to move across the country to California. You can’t lie to yourself forever, pretend that what you feel for him is superficial, that you won’t miss him with a longing that will linger for months.

Your heart aches the night before he leaves. His head on your stomach, looking up at you with those puppy dog sweet eyes, half lidded and hair mused from where you’d grabbed and tugged while he’d lapped at your sweet cunt all night.

“I’m gonna miss you,” The words slip out softly, surprising even yourself. Lately, you’ve found vulnerability escaping you more often around him. A tenderness you’re learning to grow used to again.

Leon’s gaze lifts to yours, sweet baby blues that you try to memorise even in the low light of your bedroom. “I’ll visit.”

“I know.”

There’s a sickening silence that follows. You ache to tell him everything, pour your heart out for him to pick up, but you don’t.

Leon promises to call you as soon as he gets to his new dorm, and he does. For the first few months, everything goes smoothly. You and Leon fall back into that regular routine—you call him every now and then, he updates you on his day, you tell him about yours. But as fate has it, the chasm between the two of you begins to split once more, you feel him drift away, caught up in his flashy new life. 

Turns out distance does make the heart grow fonder.

There are things Leon doesn’t tell you either. Like how he’s been binge-watching those awful horror movies you always mention nowadays (you’ve developed a weird fondness for the gore). Or that he’s started tutoring again. Or that he wishes you were here. God, he really wants to tell you that last one.

He thinks of you all the time, even when he probably shouldn’t—between classes, during his morning coffee before the 8 a.m. lab, while driving from his part-time job to campus. He thinks of you in the inbetweens, when his mind seems to wander. The thoughts come unbidden, when there’s a million other things he should have at the forefront of his mind, you’re there.

And then there’s the way he pictures you every time.

Leon’s not exactly proud of the number of hook-ups he’s had since college. One party turned into two, then three, then four. Simple drinking games blurred into long nights with countless girls underneath him who he now doesn't even remember the faces of.

Convinced if he shut his eyes, if he really focused, he could imagine it was you whimpering under him instead, your hands on his body, your lips melding around his name oh so perfectly.

It was never the same though. Never would be.

None of these girls sounded like you, none of them fucked like you, none of them felt like you did. Like they were made for him, like he could get lost in their cunts forever. It was pathetic, really, the way he’d so willingly chase that unmatchable high forever. Nothing would compare. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

So by the time semester break rolls around, he’s already packed his bags, and the four hour route from California back to Raccoon City has been set before he’s even finished his finals.

Raccoon hasn’t changed, still the same sleepy city tucked away between twin mountain ranges, the smell of pine heavy in the air. His house is how he left it, so is his neighbourhood. He drives by the familiar faded sign of Emmy’s Diner, the Police Department with its big white hollywood-style letters and rusting iron gates.

He heard that you work at the new video store down the road from his house now. Flashy, neon signs and all. Leon wonders what it’s been like for you, staying behind when he left for college, how the city has cradled you in its unchanged arms. If you’ve missed him like he’s missed you.

He pushes the glass panelled door to the video store open, the store bell tinkling in wake of his arrival. He’s fidgety. Leon hasn’t been fidgety in a very long time. He does not remember the last time he hesitated around a girl. Well, he does, it was you when he was awkward and nineteen, but since then? It has been a long road. Too long.

But then he spots you, and it’s as if the world narrows down to this one moment.

You’re leaning against the counter, eyes downcast, lazily flipping through a magazine. The overhead lights catch the strands of your hair—it’s shorter now. He wonders when you had it cut, why you chose the new style. A part of him aches, realising just how much time has passed, how long a year can be when he’s not in your orbit.

Without thinking, he beelines for the horror section, eyes scanning the rows of movie titles as his fingers brush over each DVD spine. He glances at you out of his periphery, half-watching the way you absentmindedly flip through your magazine.

Come on, come on, come on.

H, I, J, K… 

Bingo.

He slides Kairo across the counter, heart stumbling in his chest. You don’t even glance up as you take it into your hands, half-focused on whatever glossy pages have your interest, but you do smile when you register the title in your hands.

“Good choice,” you hum, your fingers already moving to punch the movie code into the register.

“Yeah? You think so?” His voice is a little rougher than he intended, but he presses on, tries to act casual as he leans up against the counter. In honesty, he feels like a dork. “Most people I know say it’s not all that great…”

Your fingers freeze over the buttons. That voice, those words. Your eyes shoot up to meet his. 

“Leon?”

“Hey.” He smiles, catching the way your expression shifts, disbelief melting into something warmer. “What’s wrong? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You laugh suddenly, that bright, familiar sound, filling the empty space between you. For a moment the months apart don’t seem so long. “God, you did not just quote Scream at me.”

Leon’s dusty blonde hair falls into his eyes as he drops his head to hide his grin. “Yeah that was… Not my best.”

Shaking your head, you slide the DVD back across the counter, still smiling beautifully at him.  “You didn’t tell me you were going to be back in town!” You sound breathless as the words escape you.

“Just for the semester break,” He says, his voice steady but soft. “Figured I’d come back before you forgot what I look like.”

You blink. Something in his expression must’ve given him away, because then you smile—small, almost shy. “I missed you too,” you hum, and the words hang in the air like they’ve been waiting to be said.

But just like that you bounce back, as if the vulnerability in your tone was never even there at all, drumming your fingers across the countertop. “You shoulda told me, we could’ve planned something nice.”

“Oh, like a date?”

You blush. Blush. Fuck. You don’t remember him being this forward.

“Are you suggesting something, Kennedy?” You tilt your head, honeyed gaze and all.

Damn you and those fucking eyes, he thinks.

“Well, I was thinking… maybe we could go to Emmy’s after your shift? You know, catch up, and I can tell you all the terrible jokes I’ve collected since I’ve been away.”

Your smile widens, and there’s something in your eyes that makes him feel like he might’ve just found his way back home. “I’d like that, Leon. A lot.”

Emmy’s diner hums with a life that he’s missed. The sound of casual conversation, plates clattering, the soft croon of Bob Dylan from the old jukebox. It’s how he left it. Same peeling leather booths, linoleum tables, vinyl floorings, bottomless pots of coffee and the smell of sizzling burgers over the griddle in the back. 

You share a booth at the back, your boots propped up on the round metal base of the table while you watch Leon with a small pout as he stands by the counter, waiting for a takeout box. The old fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the little changes—slightly broader shoulders, a more defined jawline, longer hair, no glasses. But he’s still your Leon.

When he turns back, takeaway box in hand, he catches you in the act—a fry pinched between your fingers, dragging it through his ketchup in lazy swirls. You beam up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and Leon feels his chest do a violent lurch, feels his heart rattle in the cage of his ribs, clawing to jump out and into your waiting hands.

It’s the kind of smile that would have driven him crazy when he was younger—when he was all nerves and stuttered words around you. And God, if it doesn’t still have the same effect.

“You know,” Leon starts as he settles into his seat, “there’s a fine line between sharing and stealing. You’re definitely crossing it.”

You roll your eyes, pushing the fry basket back towards him in a silent peace offering. “You weren’t going to finish them anyway.”

Leon chuckles softly, he doesn’t know what to say then, no witty quip on his tongue or eager reply.  “It's about the principle," His voice finally comes, something soft. "But I guess I’ll let it slide this once." 

You laugh, and the sound is like a balm, soothing the ache in his chest. “How generous of you,” you reply, playing footsies with him under the table. It’s in this moment Leon realises, everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him. He’s spent so much of his life chasing. Chasing, chasing, chasing, he’s always been chasing. 

Now he thinks he’d like to slow down.

And that’s what he does, when he takes you home that night, you twirl through the door of his old home, giddy as you track the familiar path to his bedroom. It’s how you remember it, same posters on the wall, same black Paul Reed Smith tucked into the corner.

Leon, however, is so much gentler than you remember him being, careful hands sliding up your waist as he walks you back towards his bed. Your calves hit the edge, breath caught in your throat as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His lips find yours, slot perfectly, he groans against your lips and you melt into his embrace.

Leon’s palm slides down to the underside of your thigh, lifts it up enough to help you back onto the bed. 

Your words get caught in your throat, but they’re not needed—not now, not with Leon. He’s always known you like the back of his hand. His lips move over your face, your cheek, your jaw. Your arms settle around his neck.

It’s like muscle memory to Leon now, the way he slots his knee between your thighs, how his hands move over your torso, up your body.

Your mind wanders—a dangerous thing in times like these—and you find yourself growing a little jealous. You're not dense; you know he’s probably had other girls in his bed between his time away in California. You wonder if they were any good. 

Leon doesn’t let you dwell on those thoughts, has your voice catching in your throat as his fingers tease the underside of your breasts. He looks up at you, those same deep blue eyes studying you, yet unreadable all the same. Your skin burns beneath his gentle touch. Hot, hot, hot everywhere he touches.

One of his hands come up to cup the same cheek he had kissed earlier, his touch featherlight. He looks at you—part adoring, part like he’s planning your ruination.

“Leon… Please. ” You beg desperately then, and in response he groans. As if he’s waited too long to hear you say his name like that again, all needy and breathless.

“Makes me wanna wreck you,” He murmurs against your mouth, his breath hot and heady, “when you talk like that. So fuckin’ sweet.”

And God if that doesn’t do it for you. A whine falls past your lips, eager, tender, desperate, and Leon’s sure he’s never heard anything as beautiful in his life.

Your skirt is off in a flash, so is his shirt, then yours, then his jeans, so on and so forth until your bare cunt is pressing against his thigh he’s conveniently slotted back between the apex of your legs. He presses his knee up against your wet cunt, mutual groans filling his bedroom. All it takes is a tremble of your lips, and Leon’s kissing you twice as hard.

“Tell me what you need,” He’s eager to please.

“You.” You, you, you, always you.

There’s a reverence in your words he cannot shake, a promise laced into the moan that tumbles from your lips. His hands smooth over your abdomen again, spreading your thighs wider to accommodate him in the space between.

“Yeah?” He hums, one of his hands runs from the corner of your jaw to your chin, the other gives a purposeful squeeze to your waist. “I need you too. Want you.”

The sincerity in his voice floors you, hits you harder than any kiss, any touch. This isn’t just lust, this is Leon, raw and open, offering you something more than you’d expected. Something you’ve always wanted but were too scared to admit. You feel the sudden sting of tears kiss the corners of your eyes, startling yourself. 

“Leon…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. He cuts you off with a gentle kiss, one that’s soft and sweet, filled with a promise that leaves you breathless.

"You’re it for me. I’m yours," he whispers into your mouth. "If you’ll have me."

Your heart stumbles over itself, caught somewhere between disbelief and a feeling you’re not sure how to put into words. “I’ve always had you.”

He laughs softly then, “Yeah. Guess you have, huh?”

It’s now, he realises, you’d never left his orbit in the first place. You’d always been there, one way or another, a constant in his life he’d never be able to shake despite how hard he’d try. You really are it for him.

“I want you too,” You blurt, the words tumbling out too fast. “I want this, want you. I always have.”

The rest is unsaid. He kisses you again with a smile, your hands drift over his back, trace the contours of every plane of muscle, press against the space between his shoulders. His hands run over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waists, caress the skin of your thighs and leave gooseflesh in their wake. You can’t stand it—how utterly gentle he is. It makes you want to cry.

You take Leon’s hand, leading it down to where you need him most. With precision you drag his fingers up through your folds, tantalisingly slow before pressing the pad of his index to your clit. You let out the softest of whimpers at the sight, his hand on your cunt. Fuck. You don’t take your eyes off the sight before you, even as you push his fingers back down, until you slip just the tip of his finger past your walls.

Your gaze flicks up to gauge his reaction, and you're more than pleased at the sight before you. Leon Kennedy, his eyes wide, mouth hung open in a small ‘o’, like he’s never seen pussy before.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You hum, amusement dripping from your lips—but your voice comes out in between panted breathes, unable to still your thump, thump, thumping heart.

He looks back up to meet your gaze, shaking his head as a grin stretches across his lips. “No, sweetheart, don’t play your games with me.” He huffs, withdrawing his hand, leaving you whining, before he pushes your thigh up to your chest.

You’re disappointed by just how fast he manages to school himself, no longer desperate for more, now invested in the waiting game.

“You want it that bad?” He croons, voice a teasing lilt against the shell of your ear, kissing the skin behind it as his body comes back down over yours. Your leg hooks around his back, hands on his shoulders, in his hair. 

“Are you gonna make me beg?” Your laugh is soft, breathlessly incredulous.

He grins against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

His lips trail a path from neck to collar, tender kisses that intensify into bruising hickeys so fast your head swims. He litters your chest in lovebites, his hand moving on its own accord as he presses two fingers against your sopping cunt. He teases you, drawing circles around your entrance, grinning against the valley of your breast as he kisses down your sternum when your cunt flutters against his hand.

He drags his fingers up, up, up, presses them to the bead of your clit in a way that makes you squirm, another round of featherlight circles that makes you keen.

“Leon, holy shit—” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, watching as he sinks his fingers into your cunt, right down to the knuckle.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You don’t have to look at him to hear the shit eating grin in his words.

The pads of his fingers press against ribbed flesh, scissoring you open. When he pulls them back out, palm against your clit, a moan bubbles up past your lips. He shushes you, sweet nothings whispered against the cavern of your throat. 

His hand, glimmering with your arousal, finds its way to your lips. “Open,” He murmurs, and so you do, lips parted for his fingers to press curiously against your tongue. Your heart hammers in your chest, thighs pressing into his sides as you blink up at him. You’re beautiful like this, a picture of pleasure that he wants to sear into his mind, brand across his heart so he won’t forget. 

You moan around his fingers and his heart stutters pitifully in his chest, he needs to hear you like that again. “Want more, sweetheart?” His voice is rough as he pushes his hips against yours teasingly, has your eyes fluttering shut and rolling back. “Need words, baby.”

Leon chuckles as you struggle to speak around his fingers pressing to your tongue, a muffled yeah caught in your throat. He placates your whine that follows with a kiss to the underside of your jaw, lining his hips up with yours as he goes.

He sinks in as deep as he can get, searing hot, like he’s desperate to melt through, skin to skin, atom to atom. You push back, chasing that same euphoric feeling, a groan falling from your lips as you choke around his thick fingers in your mouth. You twist your neck, your nose pushing into his cheek as you seek his warmth.

“Got you,” He mumbles into your skin, voice ragged. A forearm is braced by your head before he pulls his hand from your mouth, moving to hold your body. His hand presses into the gentle curve of your waist like it was made for the palm of his hands. Smearing your spit across your skin as he goes.

When Leon’s with you like this, your body beneath his, he’s so sure this is how it’s meant to be. God, you’re perfect in every sense of the word—surely this is fate’s crashing course, isn’t it? Driven together by some higher power, an invisible thread of gold looped around both your fingers.

Has to be, surely. Feels too good when his hips push into yours, shared moans tumbling from both your lips, when his lips find yours once more and he’s swallowing each one like a man starved. You’ve missed the way he feels, how he stretches you out so deliciously, fills you up and seats deep inside you like he’s made for it. 

Your hands on his shoulders blades dig burning half-moon crests into his skin, dragging your nails down his back, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest.

“Shit, pussy’s fuckin’ made for me,” He all but groans into your ear, dick pushing in at a steady pace, sickeningly slow in a way that makes you ache.

Please, please, please, your mind screams, begging for him to hurry up, give you more. You’ve waited so long to have him like this again, why should you wait any longer?

Leon’s laugh vibrates against the shell of your ear, “Beggin’ already, sweetheart?”

Oh. You’ve said it out loud.

“Don’t tease,” You plead with him.

“Tease? No m’not teasing, that’d be cruel,” He croons, “M’just taking my time with my baby.”

You want to sob. God, he is cruel. You think this must be karma for all those times you’d teased him when you were younger, worked him so close to the edge then pulled him away—

But then his hips slam against yours and a sob lurches from your throat. “Leon!” You cry, nails digging deeper into his back you worry you might draw blood.

“God, just look at you, sweetheart,” He pulls back enough to meet your gaze, hand on your hip moving to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “Crying on my dick. Fuck. ”

His hips are bruising, not an ounce of mercy in the way he ruts into your cunt.

“Can’t,” You whine, tears in your eyes.

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, obstructing your pretty view, as his hand cups your jaw. “Yeah you can, baby.”

“No, it’s– too much—” You try to get him to understand, you won’t last like this.

He knows before the words even leave your lips. “Aw, pretty baby, gonna come f’me already?” 

More tears spill from your eyes, he kisses them away with gentle lips, almost humorously different from the pace of his hips. “That’s okay,” He decides, “You wanna come now, that’s fine. Jus’ means you gotta keep taking it till I'm done.”

You’re so fucked.

“Can you do that, sweetheart?”

In the haze of your mind you comply.

“Good girl,” You arch your back at the praise, he slips in deeper if that’s even possible. “Good girl, come for me. Let me see you.”

Who are you to deny him?

You come with a soft cry of his name, words sticky with the tightness of your throat, a babbling mess underneath him as he works you through it. He’s not a complete dickhead though, he slows down to accommodate the ache between your legs, gives you a moment to collect yourself as his hand moves to interlock with yours, holding it by your head.

“How was that?” He asks you on the comedown. 

You’re burning bright, you feel like the sun, your heart ablaze in your chest. Your mind is left in a haze, and when it ebbs away, it’s as though sunspots linger in your vision. You look at him, really look at him now, rings of blue in his blown out eyes, hair tousled, lips red and raw. 

You kiss him in lieu of a proper response, tongue and teeth, messy and desperate as your hands hold his face. He groans against your mouth, you feel his dick pulse between your tight walls and you preen internally. Even after all this time you still have him wrapped around your finger.

You giggle at the thought, drowning in the gilding golden haze of the pleasure he’s given you.

“What’s so funny?” He hums, smile sweet on his lips. 

“Nothin’,” You hum, eyes half-lidded.

He grins a little wider, something cunning. “Come again, sweetheart, didn’t quite catch that.” His hips roll into yours, a moan falls past your lips.

“I said– Oh. ” Nevermind.

Another roll of his hips.

“Speak up, baby,” Another, another, another.

You give up trying to get any words out, fruitless attempts reduced to whimpers as you melt into the mattress below him. Your hands wander back over his back, shoulder blades and muscles shifting under your palms as you sooth the ridges that have emerged from where you’d left your stinging mark.

You're tight as sin, sucking him back in salaciously. Leon’s not going to last much longer at all. 

He makes as much known. He whines and you swallow each sound like it’s a sweet prize. His hips snap into yours at a brutal pace, whimpers falling from your lips at each time he drives it home. He has half the mind to pull out, but then your legs are wrapping around his waist, trapping him, keeping him firm in place.

“Sweetheart– fuck , baby–” His words carry the weight of protest but you’re stubborn, always have been.

“ Please Leon?” You’re so sweet, aren’t you? “Want it inside, want you to come in me pretty please–?”

He couldn’t say no to you if he tried. “Shit, that’s what you want, baby? Huh? Need me to fill you up real good?” His voice is low in your ear, a bark that matches his bite.

“ Yes. ”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, I’ll give you what you need, alright?” He placates, and you’re sweet as you mewl in response. “Yeah, anything you want.”

“M’so close,” He’s brought you to tears again, and this time he lets himself relish in the sight of them dribbling down your cheeks. “So close–”

Leon’s thrusts grow shallow with time, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more. “Let me feel you, baby,” He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, his hand gripping yours in a knuckle white grip, the other so tight around your hip it’s sure to leave behind bruises in the morning.

Not a thing you’re saying is comprehensible anymore, slurred words sobbed into the crook of his neck as your cunt does the talking for you. You flutter around his aching length, clamping down around him as the pressure building at the base of your spine snaps in half, a broken cry of his name tumbling from your lips.

Leon reaches his breaking point in quick pursuit, tumbling over that edge just as you do, fucking his release deeper into your cunt. “So sweet, so sweet, so sweet,” He chants, a babbling mess of emotions as you milk him dry. “So good, s’good, baby, fuck. ”

For a few moments, you are nothing but two bodies, twined together, panting and huffing as you catch your breaths. Leon’s hand, still in yours, squeezes reflexively. His face falls into the crook of your neck as his fingers dig further into the flesh of your waist. You hear his breathing grow ragged, his body trembling above you. You think you hear a whine slip past his lips, only solidified when he pulls back and you catch the glassy look in his eyes. 

“We should do this again sometime.” You grin playfully.

“Jesus, Sweetheart.” Leon shakes his head, wet chuckle caught in his throat. “I plan on doing this a lot more often than sometimes. ”

You hum, your knuckles tracing the curve of his cheek before you sweep his hair out of his eyes. “I’d like that.”

There’s a pause then, words hanging in the air. “But at least let me get it right this time. I’ll take you out to dinner, how’s that?”

“Perfect.”

"I meant it, you know." His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "About wanting to get it right." He looks at you like he's seeing everything he's been chasing, right in front of him.

You tilt your head, a soft smile playing at your lips. "I know."

Fate is curious, you think—tugging at the golden threads that make up the spider's web of your universe as she pleases, weaving people together and pulling them apart with equal ease. You realise, as you lie with your head on Leon’s chest later that night, that fate has been kind to you. Leon's strong arm envelops you, grounding you in a way only he ever has. Home is inbetween his arms. You listen to the gentle beat of his heart, steady in his chest, pounding beneath your ear. 

Without much thought, you find yourself holding your breath, syncing the thump of your heart with the beat of his, a satisfied smile curving your lips when your breathing finally falls perfectly in time.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[takes1]

p.3 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want/ i had a very fun time writing suga/daichi/asahi being realistic high school friends. shit had me giggling. anyways ty for all the support!! taglist has gotten big i love it!!

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / m!receiving oral / f!receiving oral / grinding / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / asahi climbing a window / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.7k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. final part here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

"How good are you at climbing?"

Asahi repeated his plan many times to his two most trusted friends on the walk from the hotel. They were prepared for what this was going to look like when they hit a kneel behind the brick half-wall in front of your home.

"God," He sighed, courage fading from his face the longer he stared up over the barrier.

Your window was pretty high.

"Should I-- should I go through with this? I mean, this is crazy--,"

Daichi grabbed both sides of his face and gripped hard.

"Is that even a question?"

Completely taken off-guard, Asahi looked around, a little freaked out, but was only squished harder.

Daichi's expression was stone, "You have to do this."

"Dude, I don't think any chick is gonna be this into you ever again," Suga added.

"This is once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," Daichi gave him a few hard slaps to the face and finally released him.

He rubbed his burning cheek, brow furrowed at the sudden tone-shift first, then with rising confidence. He nodded with resolution.

He was super into you, so why not? It was just a jump. He jumped all the time!

A few more supportive back-pats and half-pushes, and he was checking the look of the house to make sure Tetsuro wasn't on standby at any doors or windows. Thankfully, it was just your open window, exactly how you described it would be.

Asahi's big ass went into a full sprint across the yard, stirring a round of laughter from his peeping friends behind the wall.

The prospect of some old lady calling the cops on this giant sneaking around in the neighbor's yard was too funny of a concept to them.

Daichi snorted at Suga propping his phone up to record.

"Aaahah! Yess-ss-s!!" He giggled under his hand.

Their buddy jumped for the window, but only tapped it with his fingers.

"Noo-oo-hhha-haha-!"

Suga was belly-laughing into his arm. The brunette could hardly speak to encourage him to keep watching as Asahi looked around for anything to help him up.

To their delight, the only possible object to help him at this point was a skinny, unreliable sapling that sat an awkward distance away. He might have been able to properly use it if it was two feet closer, and if he weighed 80 pounds less.

They were grabbing at each other's hands, their laughter not even quiet anymore, when he began to climb it.

"OOoh-, Ooh! OH my-" Suga's laughter turned to just a scratchy whistle at the back of his throat as Asahi fell out of the tree with a thump!

At this point, the two were gripping each other, silently shrieking and vibrating, barely able to open their eyes enough to watch through the phone.

Daichi gasped for air when he saw him land on his ass, "AAAH!! AH-Hh--,"

"SHHHH! SHsh-ss-ss," Suga gripped his shoulder and slipped off, headbutting him in the process.

They were both whistling now, not even watching anymore, as Asahi finally got his hands on your open window just by a powerful vertical.

Fuck that tree. He was glad he left the stupid thing bent at 90-degree angle.

The two sat there on the sidewalk for the next seven minutes, overcome with demonic squeaking, gasping, and hissing, with tears rolling down their red faces. Every time they started to calm down, they'd look at the sideways tree and return to hysterics all over again.

Finally; the easy part was the muscle-up to get inside.

"God damn," He groaned in pain and slid into your bedroom with a stumble.

You swiftly got up, shut, and locked the window behind him, then drew the curtains for good measure.

From his seated position on the floor, he could see all the way up your simple white t-shirt. Pretty, lacy white panties right in front of his nose were the only thing you opted to wear underneath. He grew much, much warmer.

"God damn..." He repeated, though it sounded entirely different.

His hand reached to grab at you, but he stilled, thinking better of himself.

He noticed how pretty your long lashes were, looking down at him like he was your next meal, and wondered what you actually saw in him to make you so eager.

"Hi," You grinned and backed up to pull him to his feet.

It was a struggle to not just sit on him and make-out immediately. But the sun was just setting, and you wanted this to last all night, so you figured you could take a little time out for 'formalities.'

He quickly kicked off his shoes and took your hands, but didn't rely on your help to get up.

Your hands stayed connected between you. His thumb rubbed against the back of your knuckles, slow and tender.

You really were just a sweet little thing. He couldn't believe you were so forward over the phone.

"Hi," He replied softly. A big, warm smile down at you.

Sure, you wanted to know how his day was, how he was feeling, what he was thinking, if he liked your 'outfit'-- but that little exchange transformed your anticipation into desire, and you neededhim now.

A little sweaty from the climb, a little out of breath too, he gladly gave into your guidance to sit on your bed. It groaned under his weight, but you couldn't care about the noise when your lips were crashing onto his.

He tasted like one of those green Listerine strips- spearmint, you caught- and man, was he so good. His lips were full and soft, like you could melt into them all day. He wasn't over-ambitious, nor was he too passive with his mouth.

A growl rose in the back of his throat when you pushed his hands under your shirt.

"Please touch me," You sighed, brow furrowed, limbs growing weaker under his palms.

He sucked on your bottom lip for a moment and caught his much-needed breath. That low laughter was even hotter in person.

"God, you're so cute," He smiled, a small tease at your neediness, but he wasn't hiding the fact that he liked it.

His compliment made you melt in his arms as he picked you up to set you in his lap. The foreign feeling of hands covering your hips, pushing your softness down onto his jeans inspired a small, unfiltered whine onto his lips.

"Fuck," He chuckled, gasping at that unmistakable heartbeat around his tortured, trapped cock, then rasped, "I've got so many questions."

There was almost no resistance when you pushed him to lay down, mostly because he wouldn't trade where his hands were to catch himself. You swallowed an amused sound from him and only responded when he pushed up into you.

"a-Ah-ha," You whined, letting him trail a number of messy kisses down your neck, "Me, too."

Curious hands slid up his light shirt, massaging and prodding nearly every square inch of his hardened frame. He had some chest hair and a little tummy trail, which only added to your ferocity.

He noticed this interest and did you the favor of removing his own shirt.

The sight of his athletic build was not surprising, but it certainly made you want to speed things up. Your fleeting focus shifted to the next thing you wanted to see.

"You feel so big," You breathed, hips rolling against him when he wasn't holding you still.

Judging by the shy, modest smile against your skin, your deduction was right.

"You gonna be okay with that?" His voice buzzed against your ear.

You gasped at the sensation and his tone.

His fingers were edged up under your panties, gripping the plush of your ass, effectively driving home the question's sincerity.

Before you granted him the answer, you pressed a kiss onto his temple and retracted to sit up on his lap, "Are we asking our questions?"

"Yea-h," Just fell out of his mouth.

He didn't realize he even said anything until you responded to him. His focus was on how you rolled waves of pleasure onto his lap, back and forth, real slow, with that gone-look on your face.

"How many girls have you 'been with'?" You hooked your fingers under his waistband and watched his tummy twitch.

"Two."

You nodded with consideration, knocking out his past and future question with your present response, "Me too."

That adage sparked a look of relief and certainty on his face. His hold strengthened around your thigh when you unbuttoned his pants and started lowering the zipper.

"Let me know if it's..." He trailed and tried to suppress a shiver when you pulled him out.

He watched your eyes widen, lips pursed in an adorable astonishment.

It was a conscious effort to not shy away from the size. You couldn't believe your luck, as you took it in your hand to assert that you were not intimidated.

His chuckling interrupted your awed stare.

"Too much?"

A quick head shake, but you weren't convincing enough to his heedful mind.

Another slow, studied kiss between one another. He was holding you still by the side of your face and the back of your head, quieting every worry in your brain.

"We'll take things slow," He reassured you.

Though you were certain nothing on your face expressed concern, his promise stood as a reminder that you could stay calm, because he was safe.

You settled next to him, propped onto your elbow for the most comfortable angle you could get.

Huge, but safe.

The way his stomach tapered down into his hips had you staring and rubbing all around his dick, just curious to touch every inch of him.

A dark, pulsing head was already leaking a bit of precum. You pumped him once, real slow, and let the clear drip onto your tongue.

Salty, yeah, but not much burn to it. You licked the rest of it off of the slit.

He gave a strangled curse and you earned a big hand brushing through your roots.

"Mm..." You sucked a sloppy kiss to the head with a chuckle at his twitching in your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out past your bottom lip and bobbed down. His head fell back onto the blankets and his fingers flexed in your hair.

"Ooh, fu-ck," Was a pretty sound above you.

He was too big for you to take all of him, but he sounded completely satisfied with what you were comfortable doing.

With a slight bend in his knee, he was able to turn his hips slightly towards you. His firm hand in your hair guided you to a rhythm and depth he preferred.

"A-ahh--Fuck, baby that's s-o good..."

You never realized before, but it made it so much easier on your neck and shoulders-- not to mention the fact you didn't have to think anymore.

It helped you relax.

His muttered praise was just the cherry on top. Your thighs squeezed at how good he made you feel for just letting him take your mouth.

He lingered right at that threshold between too difficult and too easy for you, and let up as soon as you gave him some resistance to judge you by.

There wasn't a better person you could've chosen to trust with your body. His tendency to play it safe turned you on because it let you run wild without worry that he'd take advantage of it.

He was so gentle, yet firm- you wanted to discover what you could do with him.

"Fuuck, ah- good girl," He groaned at your ability to take him so well, a shocked, pleasure-soaked chuckle as he was able to fuck deeper into your throat.

You felt pliable and empty when he pulled you up by your roots. It was brand-new and a rehash of everything you wanted from him all at once.

He had a hungry admiration in his eyes for you.

Your hands flew up to tangle in his long hair in a passionate, rushed kiss.

Soft, kissy missionary or the roughest backshots his strength would allow-- you wanted anything, everything, as long as it was with him.

You wanted to be his.

He sucked the spit off of your lips and chin- the rest came off on your shirt, swiped away and forgotten onto the floor.

He readjusted to slide his pants off, yet chose to keep his briefs on. When he pushed you back onto the mattress, it was smooth and skilled, like he'd been planning exactly how he wanted to hold you.

Big, rough palms scoured your body, scratching and squeezing in all the right places to make you jump and squirm against him while he kept you occupied with his mouth.

"I'd love to return the favor," He chuckled against the shell of your ear when you wiggled away from his gentle pinch to your breast.

Your sensitivity motivated him to take his weight off of you.

You gasped at the chance to breathe with ease again. He trailed slow, wet kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and stilled at your exposed chest.

Even when he wasn't doing anything, he felt so good on top of you. You pushed out your chest for him and locked your legs around his waist, a silent beg for him to keep going.

The act stirred another question, muttered between increasingly rough stimulation on your sensitive skin.

"Why me?"

You kept your hand over your mouth to keep some higher tones quiet. Your heartbeat was pounding between your legs-- why was he so humble?

"You're-- mn-! so hot," You admitted. It sure was simple, but it was effective.

It made him blush and laugh a little against your tits, so you kept going, "You ever just, God, ah- know that you need somebody?"

It looked like he didn't really get it, but he was plenty flattered, and that was more than enough.

"Well," He smiled and pushed himself up to sit between your legs. He let his hair fall onto his shoulders so he could re-tie it, "I hope I make it worth your while."

How could he say it like that? You couldn't tear your eyes away from his flexed arms, reaching up for nimble, veiny fingers to comb through his gorgeous locks.

You finally understood it. His self-esteem was testy at best.

"You already have," You admitted.

With the new knowledge that he could be a bit shy, you slid your panties off for him with a coquettish smile.

A sort of challenge, a sort of invitation, when you spread your legs for him again.

He loved your flirty nature. You had this 'Come and get me, big guy' attitude that he couldn't ignore or back down from. In a way, it gave him the confidence he always wanted. Plus, it got him super hard.

A moment to drink up the sight of you completely nude for him.

His hands were rubbing, spreading your thighs open as he settled between them.

He could've been just-alright and it would've been enough for you. Just his breath was setting your nerves on fire. But, like everything else so far, it wasn't mediocrity that defined him.

His lids were low as he got a good look at what he was working with. He pushed your legs far and split you open in spite of -or perhaps because of- your bashful writhing.

A slow, hot kiss against your sex shut down your attempts to get in his way.

Scratching nails turned a bit sweeter, more trembly against his scalp.

A light touch was all you needed, and it was exactly what he offered; his tongue traced every bit of your already longing cunt before taking a feather-light approach to your clit.

"Oh, fuc-k," You whined, having not anticipated how quickly he'd work you up.

There was usually a learning curve to this.

You could see in his eyes that he was smiling, or that he at least found your surprise amusing.

This gentle, sweet method inspired your squirming again, but he kept you in place with heavy arms around your hips.

He kept you so still that his grip was making your muscles ache underneath him. It was a subtle, sweet mix of pain and pleasure that you craved.

"Does that feel good, baby?" His tongue dipped down, a pressure against your soaking wet, tragically still empty, hole.

He knew you couldn't reply.

"Can't wait to fuck you," He mumbled, words buzzing on you.

You were being good about staying quiet under your hand before his admission. But it seemed that you forgot your precarious situation as soon as the man was back to tonguing your clit, edging you much too close to orgasm.

"A-ah-!" You slapped a helpless hand onto his arm and threw your head back onto your pillow, "Asahi-,"

Your unrestrained sounds only encouraged him to keep going.

The sight of you coming completely undone, arching at his touch, calling his name like that, despite not knowing a damn thing about him-- he was starting to understand what you meant by needing somebody.

The tension in your tummy was starting to crest high and quick.

"I'm so close- no," You whined, scratching at him.

You couldn't push away from his grasp, nor escape his dogmatic tongue to relieve your overstimulated clit.

"No-o plea-se, I-want you," Your pleading was finally granted his attention.

He finally stilled and pressed a thoughtful kiss to the inside of your twitchy thigh. The desperation in your voice took his breath away.

Just when he thought you couldn't get any cuter, you pull a move like this.

Who was he to deny you the chance to cum around his cock?

"Damn," He grumbled.

You flinched at his last, longing kiss to your pussy.

He settled next to you and became subject to some fast, light kisses to the side of his face while he finally removed the last of his clothes. You were so happy that he listened to you and that he was pulling out his dick again.

"Yesss!" You giggled and climbed on top of him before he could even straighten back out.

"God," He choked.

Your hips rocked back and forth on top of his strained cock- you were so wet for him, so eager, he couldn't help but compulsively buck against you, too.

His slick, pulsing cock slipped between your folds and bumped against your clit with every slow, strong thrust.

Hands stretched over your ass, he brought you back and forth exactly the way he wanted.

He was using you like a little toy.

You leaned down to your elbows, lips brushing his, and moaned to egg him on, "You feel soo good."

"D'you wanna fuck me?" You bit his lip, testing his patience, his temperament, with a blissed-out look in your eyes.

One set of nails buried into your curves, the other was grabbing the back of your neck to shut you up.

A deep groan surfaced past his lips and onto yours. His low-lidded stare was so intimidating, it made your thighs clench around him.

"Fuck-," He moaned, remembering he would need to stand up to go grab a condom, "My pants are so far away."

He laughed at how badly his cock hurt, hands now trying to still the addictive motion, "I gotta-"

You pried his fingers from you and sat up so you could keep going.

"Mm-mm, I've got some..."

A vague motion to the side of the bed. You leaned your head back at the friction and hoped he was watching you.

That was shockingly attractive of you to just have condoms. He looked to the dresser you pointed to with a raised brow, then closed his fist at the sight of your pretty body getting off on him.

"Alright," He groaned, "Watch it."

The room spun for a moment.

You were suddenly on your back, jaw slack at how he just picked you up and set you down so easily.

It was only disappointing for a moment, because you loved how he could throw you around, and his disgruntled, yet soft instruction.

You gave a shuddery, "Oka-y," through a big, excited grin.

He was leaning to sift through the contents of the drawer, on a search of a large amongst a handful of regulars, when he saw your phone light up at his presence.

"Looks like your mom texted you, by the way," He passed you the device without a further thought.

Finally one for his size in hand, he got back down and started to open it.

You frowned.

7:30 p.m: Make sure you take Maru out before it gets too dark.

9:00 p.m: take maru out. im on the game

A frantic look to the window. How long had it been dark for?

He sat straight up, "Woah, what's wrong?"

Breathless, you informed him, "I was supposed to take the dog out like, 2 hours ago."

His relief at the news was one-sided. For all he knew, a text from your mom could've been much worse. He didn't understand the trouble here.

"Wouldn't your-," He hesitated to bring up Tetsuro in this fragile environment, but had to, "Your brother just do it?"

You snorted. He never did anything that he could just put on you, especially chores that were specifically meant for you.

There was the idea to text and ask if he had done it already, but if he was still occupied, he wouldn't reply, and if he wasn't doing anything, there was the chance he would come up here and bother you until you did it yourself.

You shook your head and slinked off of the bed, despite every fiber of your being telling you to do otherwise.

"I'm surprised he hasn't knocked, yet," You shivered at the new cold and gave a nervous glance to your fortified door.

You looked divine, standing against the dim light that escaped through your blinds. Like a liquid silver painting, just for him.

Asahi grabbed a pillow to cover himself with and sat on the edge of the bed so he could put his hands on you.

He pulled you into a starved, rough kiss that you had to be gently pushed away from.

"Hurry back."

taglist.

ty for supporting!!!! i love writing this. reply to be added to taglist for next(likely last) part!

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere

@kreishin

@40unung @deluluforcarlos55 @lili-harg @beyond-your-stars @noyaskneepad

@rinheartshyunlix @vintagevict0ria @am-3-thyst

masterlist. requests open!

[astonmartinii]

honey, honey [mamma mia part three] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & jenson button

mamma mia | no more ace to play | masterlist | tips

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, charles_leclerc and 1,098,455 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, sebastianvettel & jensonbutton

yourusername: little chick is finally showing and these old men are still obsessed with cars even though i'm RIGHT THERE !!

view all comments

user1: oh to be the one receiving those photos of fernando

user2: yeah yeah they're having a kid BUT the sheer amount of seb + fernando + jenson content we're gonna get

fernandoalo_oficial: so you go to goodwood with them but don't come to my race :(

yourusername: babe they outnumbered you but we'll be there in canada !!

jensonbutton: sorry some of us didn't choose to be a fossil in an f1 car. just hurry up and retire

yourusername: woah woah, let nando have his lil hobby

fernandoalo_oficial: y/n tell him he can't call me old

yourusername: jenson, fernando isn't a fossil, you know we prefer the term precious artefact, please apologise

jensonbutton: i'm sorry???

user3: omg this is going so fast

danielricciardo: ahhhh y/n is showing !! this is so exciting

sebastianvettel: chickie is the size of a lemon i think

danielricciardo: and you'll all be in canada?

yourusername: yes! i can't wait to meet all of you

danielricciardo: *can't wait to meet chickie's god father

fernandoalo_oficial: daniel you know we haven't decided that yet

jensonbutton: also i've partied with you, why do you think i'd trust you with my kid?

danielricciardo: ummm every child is entitled to a fun uncle ??

user4: i am once again stating how fucking obsessed i am with this set up

yourusername

liked by mickschumacher, jensonbutton and 1,298,450 others

yourusername: my personal favourite snippets of the god father applications. not sure it really made me trust any of them any more than before.

view all comments

user5: i was not expecting to actually see the applications but they defo didn't disappoint

maxverstappen1: ummmmm @charles_leclerc what do you mean? you are the instigator YOU pushed me into that puddle

charles_leclerc: it's okay max get it out (@sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton see how i am able to de- escalate this situation)

maxverstappen1: try and de-escalate this foot up your literal ass

charles_leclerc: i will put you in time out (i.e. watch your ass going into turn one)

yourusername: you guys realise this is not helping the application right?

maxverstappen1: nuh uh who wouldn't want a world champion as a god father

charles_leclerc: low blow verstappen

yourusername: girlies chickie has dads with seven championships between them so i really don't think she'll be impressed by two

user6: i'm sorry but roscoe hamilton as the reference is killing me

user7: full government name and everything

sebastianvettel: you guys laughed at me but this has amused me to no end

yourusername: you're a genius and i love you for this

user8: L BOMB?

jensonbutton: i take back calling the idea dumb, you were right :(

sebastianvettel: oh how the tables have turned

fernandoalo_oficial: can we all just agree that we never thought those dumbasses would actually fill one in?

yourusername: it makes me even more excited to meet them

jensonbutton: trust me the charm wears off real quick

user9: the way kimi wrote nothing and will probably end up being the god father anyway

jensonbutton

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, alexalbon and 832,087 others

tagged: yourusername

jensonbutton: best thing about pregnancy cravings is i have an excuse to use seb's insane car collection and brush up on my french

view all comments

user13: on dad duty with the dad angle he's ready

user14: honestly my heart is so warm over the fact that they've all embraced the situation

user15: girl we saw jenson and nando at mclaren together ... it's been coming

user16: oh and that one podium with jenson and seb they just need a girl they all liked to get their shit together and that's the most them thing ever

sebastianvettel: a man goes to one meeting and suddenly julie is being taken on grocery runs

jensonbutton: y/n wanted bagels so ?

sebastianvettel: i know we're having an actual kid but be careful with my mechanical kids as well

jensonbutton: do you forget i'm literally a driver too honey

yourusername: thanks for the bagel baby bagel dates 4 ever

fernandoalo_oficial: cream cheese and salmon WITHOUT ME?

yourusername: we put it in the fridge for when you get home :(

fernandoalo_oficial: awwwww really ???

yourusername: we love you (but also you can't eat soft cheese or raw fish while pregnant)

fernandoalo_oficial: it's the thought that counts?

user17: god this looks like domestic bliss, how does one come about three men to have a kid with in the swiss mountains?

yourusername: honestly i'm so lucky

sebastianvettel: we're luckier

jensonbutton: we're luckier

fernandoalo_oficial: we're luckier

yourusername: fucking hormones are making me ball my eyes out

f1

liked by estebanocon, yourusername and 1,239,086 others

f1: category is ... baby presents !! y/n y/ln made her paddock debut with sebastian vettel and jenson button to support fernando alonso 💚

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user21: omg seb in his aston martin gear to support nando

user22: imagine showing this to someone in 2010 i think they would have a heart attack

danielricciardo: i had the best present ever god father is in the bag

charles_leclerc: i read your application there's no way, plus seb loves ferrari so my gift will be the best

mickschumacher: lets be real my application was the best

estebanocon: eh i think kimi's was the best

mickschumacher: he literally wrote nothing ????

estebanocon: and yet he outdid all of yall... embarrassing for some

user23: i feel like this fight to be god father is gonna end with a fist fight in the parking lot

yourusername: and i'll be there with my popcorn

sebastianvettel: maybe let's not encourage fighting

yourusername: why not, these squabbles over being in charge if all FOUR of chickie's parents die are the most entertaining thing in the world to me

jensonbutton: lets halt it on the fighting and dying talk okay (i will also be front row to watch these morons fight)

maxverstappen1: if it's a fist fight clear win for me imo

fernandoalo_oficial: how did we get here (i will referee)

danielricciardo: respectfully maxy, i will beat your ass

maxverstappen1: NUH UH

kimiraikkonen: i'm winning no question

sebastianvettel: now that i agree with

yourusername: i thought you were against fighting?

sebastianvettel: i guess it would be kind of funny (especially because any physical violence is an immediate red flag)

user24: okay but can someone actually let us know who got what cause i know these men probably got the dumbest shit that can never actually be used by a child

user25: there's a thread on twitter!

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 934,045 others

fernandoalo_oficial: old man still got it 👍 thank you to the team for your help, needed to impress y/n with my day job x

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user27: impending fatherhood got nando looking like he can make it an eight championship house

sebastianvettel: @yourusername he's good but i was better

jensonbutton: @yourusername and i was even better x

fernandoalo_oficial: ummm this is literally my post about MY podium?

sebastianvettel: i would've won but that's just me 😬

fernandoalo_oficial: 2013 called and it wants your attitude back 🤨

jensonbutton: it's been ten years guys... (i would've also won)

sebastianvettel: well my trophy cabinet is the fullest so chickie will know who was the best by that :)

yourusername: the sexual tension is killing me, how did yall not shag back in 2010?

jensonbutton: too busy winning and being sluts elsewhere x

maxverstappen1: yall claim you would've won? yall wouldn't get close to me sorry not sorry

sebastianvettel: oh look who's out of the running for god father

maxverstappen1: NO I TAKE IT BACK

yourusername: don't worry maxy, he's joking the bee keeping suit went down VERY WELL

charles_leclerc: he's such a cheat i didn't even know they existed :(

maxverstappen1: you snooze you loose

yourusername: @charles_leclerc i'm craving pasta, i heard it's good in the ferrari hospitality

charles_leclerc: on it 🫡

fernandoalo_oficial: so is no one going to congratulate me?

yourusername: CONGRATS BUB! turns out you ARE great at your day job (and very sexy drenched in champagne)

sebastianvettel: i agree

jensonbutton: i agree

yourusername: once again how did yall make it through the 2010s

user28: i'm trying not to be weird about this but i know their sex life must be crazy

yourusername

liked by jensonbutton, danielricciardo and 1,403,677 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: baby's first f1 weekend and daddy nando did not disappoint (neither did the grid, yall are so generous thank you)

view all comments

user29: i am so unwell this is all so cute i might die

fernandoalo_oficial: i would get any shit box on the podium for you guys

yourusername: NO BRAKES! NO TYRES! OUT OF THE POINTS!

jensonbutton: babe that was over five years ago...

yourusername: ummmm i'm doing my research on your careers? i'd never watched f1 i needed to catch up

sebastianvettel: who showed you this?

yourusername: oscar and lando said they'd give me a quick fire history lesson

fernandoalo_oficial: @oscarpiastri @landonorris i've won 32 races and you show y/n that?

landonorris: funny?

oscarpiastri: we also showed her multi 21, sorry not sorry seb

sebastianvettel: not my four championships?

oscarpiastri: justice for my manager

user30: obsessed with how y/n can watch old races and most of the time one of her bfs win 😭

alexalbon: so great to finally meet you! the albon pets hope it's a girl!

yourusername: don't tell them i told you this but me too

jensonbutton: we can literally all see this?

yourusername: you guys would be such girl dads lets be real

user31: potential girl dad seb, jenson and fernando DO NOT THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME

user32: do NOT let seb name them he's already used all of the good bond girl names

sebastianvettel: i'll have you know kinky kylie is a top tier name

yourusername: for a car. do not suggest any names affiliated with any spy films

sebastianvettel

liked by astonmartinf1, mickschumacher and 1,459,832 others

tagged: yourusername, jensonbutton & fernandoalo_oficial

sebastianvettel: thought i'd have a quiet life after retirement, i thought wrong

view all comments

user33: the BEAR ???

user34: what if i die so i can be reincarnated as the f1 baby

jensonbutton: always arguing over who is the best driver but yet i am always designated driver ... makes you think

sebastianvettel: you're the one who pulls the "i'm the oldest" card ... makes you think

fernandoalo_oficial: only one of us is still racing ... makes you think

yourusername: someone is waiting to go to bed but some people are arguing in the comment section ... makes you think

user35: this kid is going to have the most entertaining childhood ever...

yourusername: @fernandoalo_oficial retire so you can join the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: no can do i need to bring home the bacon (and beat lewis)

lewishamilton: why am i catching strays? can i join the crochet club instead of fernando?

yourusername: it's strictly bring your own yarn and real housewives only

lewishamilton: make it beverly hills and i'm there

fernandoalo_oficial: ummmmm ??? @mercedesamgf1 ur driver is retiring you heard it hear first

yourusername: you guys gonna beef over crochet as well?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes.

lewishamilton: yes.

jensonbutton: okay nando you're the only one we're waiting for, we're debating god fathers

fernandoalo_oficial: one sec my pr team called me, turns out you can't make up a rumour that lewis hamilton is retiring, who knew?

maxverstappen1: VOTE FOR ME PLEASE

charles_leclerc: you've won enough this season, let me have this one

mickschumacher: i'll bring breakfast in the morning for three votes at least

yourusername: do NOT try and bribe the jury.

note: PART THREE! okay so it's finally here and i hope it's what you guys were looking for... the race for god father is heating up and the name arguments are only just starting... i am enjoying the pregnancy content but i'm excited for baby time !!!

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @minkyungseokie @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch @imagandom @mypage-myfandoms @mehrmonga @asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt @multilovebot @lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn @nothingfuninthislife @rileynicol3 @kodzuvk @mochimommy2002 @fluffyspaceprincess @roseseraj @black-swan-blog27 @nyrasslut @justdreamersdream @asfaraslifegets @why4anne @ineffableperson @leilanixx @lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog @rafaaoli @champomiel @sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Your back! Hi! :D Ok, the guys adore and are protective of their female human best friend (fem reader). She shares a strong bond with them, and they with her. So, if she ever gets injured or sick, the guys are protective for a while. She is ready to help them again (as much as she can with being a human and all) but what she doesn't realize is that this time it's close to their spring season, making them very protective, territorial, and aggressive to outsiders. How would this play out as they are close to their primal time of the year, and she wants to go with them as they're about to leave on patrol, but they won't let her? Fluffy ending. 🥺(maybe some turtle noises and behaviors too)

Protective TMNT headcanons—reader wants to come on patrol

Bayverse, 2003, or 2012 if it suits ya. 🤷‍♀️. SFW! Mentions of "spring season" for the boys but nothing s*xual. hope u like it @pokemew119 !

Leonardo:

• Like Leonardo, we'll be straight to the point with this one—he's not going to want you going out with them. Normally, he doesn't want you to. Now he really doesn't want you to

• Due to their biology, springtime can be pretty dreadful for the bunch (for Splinter, too, he's the one having to manage them). Aggression, sensitivity, protectiveness, fussing over their rooms, etc. So you asking Leo to go out on their nightly patrol with them was a "this really isn't a good time" moment for him

• "The Lair is warm and safe, why would you want to come out here, anyways? Leave the fighting to me. That's what I'm here for, that's my job."

• Can be a little bit of an ass about it ngl, because he just wants to know you're home with someone he actually trusts to protect you, their father

• You heard Leo bark your name as you started up the ladder out of the sewers. Blue eyes giving you a suspicious look. You were trying to sneak topside so you'd be out there before he was able to protest. "No, no, go ask Master Splinter to show you some stuff if you want something to do so badly."

• Pats you along back to the Lair, watching to make sure you actually go back inside

• If you DO end up out there with them, he's going to be stressing a little more than usual about the setup because it throws him off having someone he feels he needs to constantly look out for, unlike his brothers who are more or less self-sufficient. But you bet you're always going to be his first priority, no hesitation

Michelangelo:

• For once, the heightened senses of springtime had Mikey thinking slightly more rationally than usual

• "Babycakes, you sure you want to come? It's ugly out there, smells bad, full of dudes always asking for a beat-down, maybe you should stay." Ruffles your hair for reassurance. "We can play games when I get back!"

• Secretly tries to dissuade you from even wanting to go out with them in the first place with promises of fun back at home

• If you do go anyways, he's taking every chance to show off his nunchaku skills

• Gets annoyed at his siblings for taking your attention away from him (oop there's the possessiveness)

• Very touchy, constantly hanging off of you or trying to play-fight, sit close to you on the sofa, scoot his chair towards you at dinner, etc.

• You ask if you can go with them on their way out and you catch Mikey

• He smiles big and sheepishly shakes his head, "Sorry, y/n, not tonight! You're kickin' back in my beanbag tonight and hanging out, not running around New York." End of conversation. You try to say something, he interrupts you, thumping your shoulder. "I'll text you! See ya, angel!"

• More passive about his protectiveness and isn't so outright about it like Leo, but on the inside, still doesn't fully understand why he feels that way (even though Donnie has explained over and over again)

Donatello:

• "You want to come out with us? Not gonna work, y/n, this is real stuff," he said amicably, raising his brow ridges. "There's been a three-point-four percent increase in crime rate just around the next four blocks, and that's with us kicking tail every other night. Statistically, you're liable to become a target and..."

• Donnie gets real irritable in spring and tends to avoid his brothers, argues with Leo about about their rooming situation bc he wants to be alone (except for with you)

• Sets up an entire cozy corner in his lab for you to chill in while he's gone and hopes you'll use it, even though he'd definitely rather be home and not topside at this time

• When you ask him to tag along on their patrol, he starts spouting off all the reasons you shouldn't and ultimately wins that debate

• Compromises by letting you man his tracking/observation station and communicating with them on their missions from the sewers

• He actually loves knowing you're on tap while he's out in the city and he can just radio in whenever he feels like it

• "See, isn't being our control center way better?"

Raphael:

• Raph already has a huge attitude problem, make that tenfold in spring.

• Gets waaaaay too overprotective at times, verges on bothersome levels of spazzing over what you do and where you go

• "You wanna go on patrol? With us? Just, out in New York City? With the Foot? Ahah, ain't happening, y/n. 'You said 'maybe' last time?' Well, I'm sayin' no, this time. You'll be bored?" He shrugs. "Watch TV or something. But you're not comin'."

• If you do somehow manage to go (highly unlikely), he's going to be grumpy and complain the whole time because he's secretly just worried and his hormones are out of whack

• Gets overly aggressive defending you from anything and probably stirs up more conflict over it tbh

• "It ended up fine that time, but don't do that again, ya hear?" He doesn't want to seem like he cares too much, so he flicks your head. (That man is head over heels for you)

[moonstruckme]

Hey! I know you wanted more requests for people besides the marauders so you can do this for anyone you like but maybe reader who is just soooo in love with them that anytime they do something nice for her she starts crying? Like happy tears because she's just so in love and she doesn't know how to express that. If you don't want to that's fine!

Hi, thank you! I decided to go with Sirius anyway because I felt like he'd be the most fun. (This is gonna be me btw, the first time I experience romantic love there's no way I'm gonna be able to handle it)

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Do you think it’s a bad idea to show off my tattoos on the first day?”

“Mm, maybe,” you muse, looking longingly at the way Sirius’ inked-up forearms pair with his black dress shirt. “I feel like after the interview it won’t matter, but today you probably want to present your straightest-laced self.” 

“Gross,” he grunts, but starts rolling down his sleeves. 

It’s a rare sight, Sirius up before noon, but his job interview is scheduled for ten and he doesn’t feel in a position to negotiate. The frail morning light bounces off the full length mirror he’s standing in front of and illuminates the room as he purses his lips and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You’re lying on the bed watching him get ready, trying your very best not to look enthralled and wanton (it is a constant effort). 

“My most gorgeous, radiant angel, could I ask you for a favor?” 

You grin, warmth flooding your chest. “You don’t have to butter me up. What is it?” 

“Grab the bigger version of this shirt? I think I may want a baggier tuck.” 

You hum and get up, padding into the closet. Sirius’ clothes are all strewn over the floor and dresser, but miraculously the shirt you’re looking for is on a hanger. As you reach for it, you nearly trip over a small box on the floor. It looks like the shell of something Sirius was sent in the mail, plain cardboard with the shipping label torn off. You bring it back out with you. 

“Thanks, lovely,” Sirius says as he takes the hanger from you. 

“No problem,” you reply. “Want me to recycle this for you?” 

He turns to look, blinks, then looks harder. “No. Where’d you find that?” 

“On the floor.” 

“Must have fallen off its shelf.” He discards the smaller shirt on the bed and starts doing up the buttons of this new one, smirking when your eyes track the deft movements of his fingers. “Don’t throw it out, it’s got important stuff in it.” 

You weigh the box in your hand. “It feels empty.” 

“It’s got important, lightweight stuff in it.” 

You eye the barely-open flap of the box, intrigued. “Can I look inside?” 

You think you catch a flicker of hesitation across Sirius’ features, but it’s quickly schooled into insouciance. A vine of nervousness winds around your gut. “Sure,” he says, “go ahead.” 

You look at him a bit longer before slowly peeling back the cardboard flap. Inside is a mishmash of things. Paper, mostly, but you recognize one item immediately. It’s a flimsy, neon orange paper wristband, a venue’s name stamped haphazardly onto one side. At the first concert you’d gone to together, Sirius had griped endlessly about how the orange contrasted with his outfit horribly and brought out all the ugliest hues of his skin (there aren’t any, but you were too timid to tell him that at the time). He’d seemed desperate to be rid of it. But here it is, carefully clipped off instead of torn and preserved like something special. Something warm and weighty blooms in your chest. 

You take out one of the pieces of paper, unfolding it. It’s your handwriting, thoughtless scribbling you’d left for him to find on the fridge one day after you’d left for work. Have a great day, love you. 

Another is a bar napkin, containing a whole back-and-forth exchange between you and Sirius from the first time you’d met his friends. You’d kept passing it to him under the table, asking Do they like me? Are they just being nice? Is Remus always so frowny? and he’d passed it back saying Yes. Yes, they love you. James is this nice to everyone, but I can tell he likes you. Remus is being a sourpuss because he hasn’t eaten yet. You’re perfect. 

By the time you come upon a polaroid you’d forgotten he’d taken of you in his kitchen, you’re pressing your lips together to keep them from wobbling and your entire being feels warmed by incandescent, aching fondness. Your heart feels so big you can’t breathe around it. You’re not sure you have room for this much love, but you’ll happily carry it around like a weight in your chest for the rest of your life. 

You’re all too aware that Sirius is watching you now, so you try to keep it together for his sake, but when you blink a tear slides down the side of your nose. 

“Hey,” he chides lightly, amusement inlaid with a bit of panic. “Don’t.” 

You sniffle, then laugh wetly. “Can I hug you?” 

Normally he might make a joke (Not if you’re going to get snot all over my interview shirt) but something in your expression must sway him, because Sirius’ eyes go soft. “Yeah, baby. Of course.” 

He doesn’t make you get up, crossing the distance to the bed and wrapping you up in his arms. You let out a little sob at the contact. 

“I’m gonna clean off your shirt once we’re done,” you promise, gripping his shoulders. 

“Okay.” He sounds amused. 

“I just—I didn’t know you kept this stuff.” 

“It’s cheesy.” 

“It’s not,” you insist, hugging him tighter. It makes you happy beyond words, to know you’re bringing this out in him. To see, with your own eyes, how much he loves you back. You can check in with yourself at any time and know you’re happy in your relationship with Sirius, but you never could have imagined how spectacular it would feel to know that you make him this happy in return. “It’s special, Sirius. You’re special.” 

“James’ mum used to tell me the same thing.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You smack his arm, pulling back with a huff. You’re smiling, though, and he sees, taking your wet, blotchy face between his palms and grinning at you. Honestly, if he weren’t Sirius Black, he’d be such a dork. 

“I love you,” he says, a significance in his tone that contradicts the playfulness in his expression. “Do I let you forget it?” 

“No,” you tell him. “You don’t, it’s just…I just really love you too, you know?” 

His smile spreads, flashing canines the second before he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s firm and spirited, and Sirius holds you there until you’re laughing into his mouth. 

“I know,” he says, pecking you once more on the lips before letting you go with a swipe of his thumbs across your cheeks. “Alright, gorgeous, clean me up, would you? I’ve got other people to go impress.”

[worldlxvlys]

A FIC BASED ON THE TEXTS IN FWB!NATE PT 2 WHERE NATE FUCKS THE READER IN HIS JERSEY??

jersey

fwb! nate doe x sturniolo reader

warnings: smut (don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap ittt), cursing

a/n: this is one of my favoritesss, hope you enjoy :)

based off of these texts, you can read if you want !

FLASHBACK

NATE’S POV

she looked perfect.

standing on the bleachers, cheering me on.

she wore a large grin, clapping her hands excitedly as she watched me score the winning goal.

the crowd was deafening, and the stands were full to the brim. but the only person i care about is her.

she was wearing a plain black t-shirt.

but she’d look so good in my jersey.

i want everyone to know that she’s mine. i want to see my last name on her back.

but i can’t show her off. i can’t let everyone know she’s mine. because everyone can’t know without her brothers knowing.

and that thought makes me sick to my stomach.

everyone here thinks she’s available. if the dude next to her decided he wanted to flirt with her, he could.

yeah, that’s not happening.

as soon as i was able to get to my phone, i texted her.

i’m coming over to you. tell your brothers you don’t feel well.

she glanced up at me, confused, but still nodding her head.

always such a good listener.

she smiled bashfully at that, before turning towards her brothers.

i walked over, as soon as she finished announcing that she didn’t feel well.

“hey if you want i can take her home” i said, looking at her brothers.

“i know you guys were planning on going out to eat, but i’m real tired. i was gonna go home anyway”

nick squinted his eyes at me, like he knew something was off.

matt spoke up, “ i mean, if you want, but i can just bring her home”

“no, it’s all good. i literally have to pass your house anyway” i said, still trying not to be too obvious.

“ok. thanks man” matt said.

“feel better, alright ? we should be home in a few hours” matt said, as he pulled his sister into a hug.

“thanks matt”

once we said our goodbyes, i guided her to my car and started toward her house.

“what was that about nate?”

“well, i can’t mark you up” i placed my hand on her thigh.

“can’t let everyone know that you’re mine”

“but what i can do is make sure that you know. in case there was any confusion”

“you’re mine.”

my hand crept up under her shirt, playing with her nipples.

she gasped out, “shit, nate”

me eyes stayed on the road as i listened to her soft sighs and whines.

“gonna have to remind you” i said, as i pulled into her driveway.

once we entered her house, we immediately went straight to her room.

i pushed her against the door, immediately placing my lips onto hers.

she laced her fingers through my hair, tugging at the roots and pulling a deep groan from me.

she knows exactly what to do to drive me crazy.

she pulled away for a second to pull her shirt over her head.

“so fucking beautiful” i whispered to her, before unclasping her bra.

her perky tits fell out of her bra perfectly.

i gave one of her nipples a squeeze, rolling and flicking it, while taking the other in my mouth.

“holy shit, nate” she moaned as her head fell back.

i grabbed her by the belt loops of her shorts, pulling her closer to me.

i continued to lick and roll my tongue around her nipple, before moving my lips back to hers.

i wrapped my arms around her waist, squeezing her ass, and making her gasp.

i took the opportunity to explore her mouth with my tongue.

she tugged at the bottom of my jersey, giving me an idea.

“take these off” i told her, pulling at the waistband of her shorts.

while she followed my instructions, i pulled my jersey over my head.

“you can’t wear it outside, but you damn sure can wear it in here” i said as i placed it over her head.

it was slightly baggy on her and looked so long it could be a dress.

fuck. she looks so good.

i pulled my pants and boxers down, my dick springing up.

i put my hand in front of her mouth “spit” i said.

she obliged, and i brought my hand down to my dick, pumping myself a few times before bending her over her desk.

i pushed my jersey up her body slightly, exposing her ass.

i pushed her panties to the side and lined myself up with her entrance, pushing in.

“fuckkkk” she moaned as she held onto her desk.

“shit, baby, so tight” i groaned as i held onto her hips, pushing myself further inch by inch.

when i bottomed out, i gave her a minute to adjust to my size.

“y-you can move” she moaned out.

as soon as the words left her mouth, i snapped my hips into hers.

i watched the way her ass jiggled against me as i pounded into her.

“fuck nate!” she screamed as i continued to slam into her.

“you’re mine, baby. don’t fucking forget it. that’s my name on your back. nobody else knows how to make you feel like i do. do they?”

i pulled the fabric of her panties, letting it snap against her skin.

“no! fuck, no, no! only you, nate” she cried out.

something about hearing her cry my name while she wore my number made me go crazy.

i looked down at where our bodies met, “look at how perfectly you take me, baby. you were made for me” she turned her head back, trying to watch my cock slide in and out of her, but wasn’t able to.

she looked back at me instead, giving me those innocent eyes while i fucked her into the desk.

her wetness made my dick glide through her walls quickly, helping me to speed up my pace.

“HOLY-“

NOW

READER’S POV

“-SHIT, NATE!” i yelled, as he fucked me into his bed.

my face was smushed into his pillows, my ass up in the air.

“whose number is this, baby ?” his groan was deep and raspy.

the sound of his voice alone made my eyes roll back.

“yours, fuck nate” i moaned quietly into the pillow.

“don’t hold back, baby. nobody’s home, wanna hear you scream my name” and i did just that.

“NATE! NATE, F-FUCKK” i moaned out.

i clenched around him, signaling i was close.

“fuck, baby. i want to see that pretty face when you cum all over me.”

with that he flipped me over, and continued to push his hips into mine.

his eyebrows were furrowed, chain dangling in my face as he continued to thrust into me relentlessly.

my nails dug into his back, leaving red marks in their wake as my head fell back and my toes curled.

“nate! nate- i’m gonna cum!”

“yeah? c’mon baby, cum with me” he whispered into my ear.

we both released together, our juices mixing as he sloppily thrusted into me a few more times before pulling out.

“so, i’m yours ?” i asked, fighting a smile while trying to catch my breath.

“ of course, baby. and i’m yours” he said as he moved the fabric of his jersey over to kiss my shoulder.

———————

hope you liked <333

fwb! nate masterlist

main masterlist

tag list: @lovingsturniolo @lustfulslxt @gwenlore @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sturnspepsi @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @chrisdevora @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @stramboli4life @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @vib3swithanuk @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @soursturniolo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @rheaakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @abbie13sworld @starsturniolo @theyluv-meee @sturns-posts @robins-scoop @freshloveforthefit @imwetforyourmom @rootbeerworshiper @sturnibugz @creamoncreamoncream2 @whos-avi @hearts4chriss

[sassycheesecake]

"Hello everyone, I’m going ta do a -" The young Miya chef starts to speak into a video camera, his black shirt carrying his restaurant logo over his right pec muscle. His black messy hair looks like he just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago, which he secretly did because Atsumu has shown up at seven in the goddamn morning to remind Osamu of the bet that the younger twin has lost only a month ago.

The Miya twins challenged each other to do the Chubby Bunny challenge and when Osamu was about to win, you came running into the living room in just a towel because you saw a cockroach on the bathroom wall and didn't know that Atsumu came over while you were in the shower. The chef almost choked on the marshmallows when he saw you in a single towel, causing Atsumu to shriek in victory with his mouth full of marshmallows as well. In the end, you had to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on both of them.

Since it’s off-season for the professional volleyball player, he has nothing better to do than bother his younger brother and Osamu‘s pretty partner on a regular Saturday morning.

"You’re not even going to introduce yourself?" You interrupt him with a little laugh behind the counter with the video camera, where you are seated next to Atsumu so you can film your boyfriend.

"I’m Osamu Miya and today-" The ravenette starts again.

"Ya forgot ta mention the great Atsumu Miya's twin brother-" Atsumu adds cheekily, interrupting him yet again.

Osamu can’t stop the highly aggravated sigh escaping from him, and he sends his brother a death glare behind the camera.

“ANYWAY- I am going ta show ya’ll how ta make a simple deep fired shrimp onigiri. Joinin' me today is my beautiful assistant an' partner-in-crime, (Y/N)." The grey-eyed twin looks behind the camera where you are seated.

You look up with a surprised face, clearly not expecting to be helping your boyfriend.

Scooching off the bar stool in front of the counter, you hop down and make your way with slow steps to Osamu who watches you with adoration and fondness in his gray eyes.

"What’s the first step?" You ask excited, almost hopping up and down like an excited puppy.

Osamu gives you one of his rare breathtaking smiles, feeling his heart speed up by the happiness on your face.

"Well first, we need ta make sure we got all the ingredients for makin' this." The black-haired chef explains while the camera zooms out a bit and the viewer is able to see the laid out ingredients for making the dish.

Osamu points to each ingredient, explaining what it is, what you need it for and how much you need of it.

"Looks like we got everythin'. Ya ready?" Osamu leans on the counter as he watches you with a grin.

"Yes, chef." You giggle and roll up your sleeves on your hoodie.

You can hear Atsumu gag behind the camera as he hears your flirting.

"Alright. First, yer gonna crack an egg in a bowl an' whisk it, afterwards yer gonna add the flour an' the cold water. Mix all together. Add some spices so it’s not completely flavorless. Ya followin' so far?" Osamu raises his dark eyebrow as he asks you.

You do as he says, nodding in confirmation.

"Good. Now yer gonna put that off ta the side an' grab the other bowl with the flour innit an' put the shrimp in there."

Grabbing the already peeled shrimp out of the fridge, you dump them in the flour and mix it together, making sure that there are no bare parts left on the shrimp.

"Now what?"

"Now yer gonna dip the shrimp in da batter, hold it by its tail and then dunk it a few times in there. I already prepared da fryin' oil pot but I don’t wantcha ta hurt yerself so please let me do the fryin'." Osamu looks at you with his stunning ash-grey eyes and every time he looks at you with those eyes, it makes you weak in the knees, so all you do is stare at him with big eyes and nod your head.

The chef chuckles at your reaction and those chuckles send shivers down your spine.

"(Y/N), yer startin' ta drool over mah brother. Try ta tame yer thoughts please, I can hear them from here." Atsumu teases you with a mischievous grin.

Feeling your face heat up a thousand degrees, you watch as your boyfriend skillfully puts the shrimp in the frying pot, turning them over occasionally because taking them out to put them on a drying tray.

"Leave mah girl outta this. She just knows that I am a lot hotter than you." Osamu explains as he finishes the last bit of frying the shrimp.

"Yannow, if I'd known ya would be disgustin' like this, I would have stayed at home." Atsumu scrunches up his face.

"Door's right over there." Osamu mentions his head towards his front door, clearly not bothered and more than happy to have some alone time with you.

Atsumu pouts and slumps over the counter.

"(Y/N) do something. Yer ass of a boyfriend wants to kick me out." The Setter looks at you for help, giving you those brown puppy eyes.

Curse twins and their equally good looks.

"We still need Atsumu for making the video. And he can clean up afterwards since we are both cooking." You grin up at the younger twin.

"I ain’t cleanin' shit."

"He’s not gettin' anywhere near my damn kitchen."

The twins say in sync.

You laugh at their words, setting the already cooked sticky rice on the counter next to the shrimp, along with the seaweed strips, salt, water and boiled sauce for dipping the cooked shrimp in, before putting it into the rice onigiri.

The restaurant owner shows you how it’s done step by step, being slow with his movements, so you know how it’s done.

During the trying to copy his movements, the blonde excused himself to use the restroom and Osamu uses the chance to get closer to you.

He stands behind you, putting his giant hand over yours to help you shape the onigiri. He does it on a daily basis and you’re so happy that you are his and he is yours only.

"Try doin' it yerself." The dark-haired man whispers in your ear, sending shivers all over your body and getting goosebumps by his dark voice.

You feel his strong heartbeat against your back and your breathing picks up a bit. Leaning his head next to yours on your shoulder, you feel his smile against your cheek as he watches you try to shape the next onigiri by yourself.

Holding the somewhat triangular-shaped onigiri (it’s more heart shaped actually), you present it to him with an unsure look.

All of sudden, Osamu took a large bite out of it, getting some rice on his lips, shocking you a little bit even though you should have seen this coming, this is Osamu Miya after all.

Humming in bliss, your lover swallows the food before giving you a flirtatious look, turning you around so you’re standing face-to-face.

"Compliments to the chef."

Smiling in delight, the ravenette places a smooth and loving kiss onto your lips, pulling you closer to his body.

You forget the world around you, it’s just you and Osamu. And nothing else matters.

[seobslatina]

open wide! >__<

pairing ; jongseob x fem! reader

warnings ; smut !!! in public, spitting, skater seob (screams into pillow), edging, choking, gagging, seobs kinda mean at the end oops, & nothing else i could notice c:

notes ; lowercase intended, im no skater erm ..., ive never written smut like this before so be weary (so soz...) feedback is nice!! i know the pacing is probs weird but o well ^__^ anyways i need him bad

"open your pretty mouth for me, yeah?"

those were the only real words your dizzy brain could understand as jongseob pounded into you at the skatepark bench.

seob and you hadn't been able to hangout for a while, and he thought "what better way to spend time with my sweet girl then her watch me show off at the skate park?" and he did exactly that. you watch him walk up to you, fangs on display as he smiles so sweetly, but that white compression shirt. the specific one that had you clenching your thighs when he sent you the picture on the day he bought it.

"hey angelface" seob says, snapping you out of your trance. he opens his arms, enveloping you in his embrace. lean torso pushed against yours, strong arms around you, contoured back feeling just so right in your hands ..

"y/n, baby, i'm talking' to you" he laughs out, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. "what's got my girl so distracted hm?" he asks, pulling away, popping the board into one hand, other in his sweatpant pocket.

"oh it's nothing seob, truly" awkward smile on your face as you fidget with the hem of your top. "liar." he points out immediately. "cmon, talk to me, pretty girl" he hums oh so convincingly, hand from his pocket coming up and brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"i just ... ithinkyoulookreallygoodinthatshirt" you blurt out embarrassingly fast. "oh, well of that was it babe that's all you had to– oh ..." he stops himself, admiring his outfit when he noticed his shirt. "you think i look good?" he hums, stepping closer to you. you nod, because duh

but that's not enough for jongseob oh no ..

"words, angel" his voice soft, but tone almost condescending in a way, like you knew better.

"i think you look good..." you say as jongseob drops his board, hands snaking around your waist. "i missed you" you add, hands moving to his shoulders. "i know pretty.. let me make it up to you?"

and with that, the sun setting, everyone being gone and some more of jongseob's smooth talking, you were now laid on the skatepark bench, fat cock stretching your pretty cunny with ease.

"s-seobie, please!!!" but you're not even sure what you're pleading for. jongseob's pace is relentless, mushroom tip kissing your cervix so nicely, bruising grip on your hips as his fat cock stretches you. "you're being too loud y/n .. you want the street to know how much of a slut you are?" he huffs out, hips becoming sloppy as he shoves two of his slender fingers into your mouth, gagging at the unexpected feeling. you look at him, his eyebrow piercing shining from the streetlights and he huffs and groans. the way his compression shirt hugs his frame, riding up the slightest bit, blonde hairs sticking to his forehead, three knuckles deep into your mouth.

"but you're my slut aren't you? my sweet sweet slut .." he grunts out, pace never letting up. "this pretty pussy is so good t'me".. you squeeze around him, whimpering on his fingers before he slides them out, spit string connecting you both before he quickly moves them to your puffy clit. "open that pretty mouth for me, yeah?" he huffs out, gathering spit in his mouth. you open, tongue lolling out before feeling a glob land on your tongue, whining at the feeling.

"go on, swallow it" he huffs, before going even harder than before, if that was possible. you feel so good, so unbelievably full and so close ...

"seob!!! i-i think 'm gonna–" but before you can even finish your sentence, seob slides out, tucking himself in his pants. "jongseob what the fu–" before he lightly slaps your inner thigh, making you whine in response. he slides your panties back up, the slick and mess all sticking uncomfortably against you.

"need to hear you, can't stand having to keep my angel quiet"

and with that, you both quickly make your way to seobs apartment.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Could you talk about pegging for Jace, aemond and aegon? I’d love to hear your hours about each of them with that!

Brilliant question anon!! So I've received quite a few requests about pegging, some with ideas and some just asking to discuss it. I'm gonna use this ask to just discuss some brief thoughts about pegging before I begin the other asks :))

Obviously, NSFW sub!characters below the cut.

AEGON:

So Aegon is one that definitely knew he would like pegging before it came up with you. He had dabbled a bit in fingering himself before but he had never mentioned this to anyone and he had never used a toy on himself either. This was something he was too scared to tell the brothel workers because he didnt think he'd be able to take being humiliated or made fun of for it.

This comes up during one of your favourite things to do with Aegon: give him a teasing handjob while asking him about his fantasies and what he'd like to do in future. Aegon gets so flustered so easily and watching him trying to form full sentences while you stroke him is so so hot. He eventually mentions that he likes to finger himself sometimes, and obviously you just have to ask more about this.

Once you try pegging, aegon is absolutely obsessed. The moment you have the strap on all thoughts go out the window.

AEMOND:

For Aemond you definitely have to mention it to him because he'd never ever bring it up himself. You suggest it because he knows how badly he wants to feel safe and... small? He LOVES when you manhandle him and position him and make him feel small.

You suggest pegging for this reason, and while he's hesitant at first once he tries he really likes it. However, it's definitely a rare thing because he needs SO aftercare after pegging. He's is so so prone to subdrop after pegging, sometimes even when you're right there holding him he can still start to slip into subdrop because he just feels SO vulnerable afterwards.

Also I think maybe he likes plugs? You get the idea when Aemond is starting to slip into subdrop. You catch it luckily and some praise and comfort helps him feel better. As he first drops though, he keeps on saying he feels empty. Next time, as part of aftercare you put a plug in him and it just makes him feel so much better. The plug only gets removed when he's 100% recovered.

JACE:

Pegging is something Jace didnt even know existed. He knew he liked fingering, and he let you know that pretty early. (Jace might seem all noble and innocent but the moment he's turned on he turns into a whiney little slutty thing who can't stop babbling and easily reveals his fantasies, truly no thoughts only horny)

You also don't suggest pegging, not at first anyway because you know how shy he is already just about fingering.

But.... Aegon tells him, the little fucker.

It's at the dinner with the whole family. You're sitting next to Jace of course and Aegon is taking great pleasure in teasing him. He gets to pegging somehow, asking him if he fucks you or if you fuck him. It's meant as a joke, and of course Jace blushes and tells him to stop being so crude. But then that night, you check in on him before bed to make sure what aemond said didnt get under his skin and to your shock he actually gets all blushy and squirmy and tells you he might want to try it.