#*makes a rainbow with her hands* imagination!

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, self doubt, body image, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 14 - Birthday Parties | ‘Ours’

You sat in the back garden holding Teddy. Normally, you didn’t love the idea of opening a gift whilst a party was still going on. It made you a little queasy even thinking about having to muster up some sort of reaction for a gift you might’ve not liked but nevertheless your party planner had convinced you it’d be cute for Teddy to open a few. Your parents had arrived the day of the party. They weren't really ones for staying anywhere ‘extra’ days. They seemed to always have a jam packed schedule and even had to ‘move some things around’ to ‘make it work’ to attend their granddaughter's first birthday. You handed Teddy to your mum who wanted to hold her while she showed her what she had gotten for her as a present. Your newly 12 month old baby didn’t really have the attention span people were looking for from her but she tried her best. It was almost uncomfortable watching your mum be so comfortable with Teddy. She was so positive and motivating. It confused you. She emphasized how beautiful Teddy was over and over again. Repeating how much she loved Teddy’s chubby arms. The way her pudgy golden skin rolled. You don’t think you had ever heard her say the word in that tone. ‘Chubby’ was never a good thing if it was coming off her lips and yet here you were almost melting over it. She had given Teddy a Judith Leiber rainbow bear purse. Your mum loved Judith Leiber bags; they were kitschy, extravagant and expensive. It was sweet in her own way.

“Wow, say thank you, yeah?” Trent cooed to Teddy kissing her cheek. He was able to manage some sort of polite response. It was a £5,000 plus crystal clutch. Did your one year old daughter need this? Absolutely not. In your mum's head though was the perfect thing for any child. Of course it was. And there she was again… that’s mum, champagne in hand, luxury bag in the other, terrifyingly gorgeous face waiting for your recognition.

Winnie and Lauren had flown over with your parents for the occasion and a few of Trent and his brother’s friends came as well. Frankly, you appreciated them just showing up. They were friends and family, of course, but they were also in their young twenties willingly spending their time watching your baby mush cake into her face. It was George's birthday in a few days time as well and he had invited you and Trent on a trip for it but it was a little far-fetched. Every time you saw anyone who was invited on said trip their time was spent trying to convince you to go on it, today that person was George. He was persistent until Winnie got a hold of him. George started talking to Winnie stood in your back garden preoccupied for the moment.

“Not a footballer….” Lauren cooed in an obnoxious tone in Winnie’s ear as if she didn’t know that. She of course had met George previously. Winnie swatted at Lauren’s ass with her hand to tell her to keep moving. It was kind of funny to think of how you never realized how much was going on around you as a kid. Like what adults were actually doing at the parties you were at. Right now, you were taking it easy. You could have a drink here or there but if you were holding Teddy you didn’t want to take anything too far. Too far didn’t exist in everyone else at this part your age’s vocabulary. Their day was just beginning. Lauren and Winnie were staying with you which in theory was fun. It was fun up until later into the evening when you realized they didn’t spend a lot of time especially together at night when a baby was in the same house. You had said Winnie and Lauren were like hell on wheels but throwing Trents friends into the mix, a forest fire.

“It’s my child’s first birthday… like why!” you shrieked at Winnie who was currently peeling her clothes off to dive into your pool you had been putting off closing because you were too lazy. It was an unreasonably warm night for the north west of England but still. She went to respond to you but one of Marcel’s friends pushed her in. All the ‘adults’ had left. I mean, you were adults. Your sister that just went in the pool was an adult but it didn’t feel that way. She came up from the water with a gasp.

“Don’t you want to be a cool mum?” Winnie tried to guilt you into coming in with her as she treaded water. You rolled her eyes at her poor attempt to convince you but you still took slight offense to her comment. Was she saying you weren’t cool anymore?

“I am cool… I just don’t want to swim right now.” You stood your ground but shakily. It pinged in your brain wondering if you had become less fun. Until Marcel came over and picked you up from behind. “Marce, I swear to fucking god, put me down!” You yelped as he walked closer to the pool with you squirming. “My phone! My phone! Wait!” You begged him not to, at the very least, ruin your phone.

“Gimme your phone then …” he taunted you knowing it was in fact, not in your pocket. You looked at him with pleading eyes. “I’ll go in with you…” he spoke quieter just to you in the hopes he could entice you if he went with you.

“I really don’t want to get wet…” You moaned. Really not interested in getting thrown in. He wasn’t happy you didn’t accept his olive branch.

“You used to be so much more fun. Relax.” He spoke to you teetering on the edge of the pool. Everyone was telling you to relax lately so you just closed your eyes slightly defeated. He threw you in. The sound of the water engulfing you was jarring. Trent stood on your back patio watching you pull yourself out of the water completely soaked. Your white tank top now see through, your bra on display. He felt so conflicted like he needed to be a responsible but he couldn’t focus… you looked really fucking hot.

“Trentski!!!! Wannna go for a swim?!” one of the other boys called out seeing him walk out of the house. You were underwater when he did so you smiled picking your head up to see him. He jogged up some stone stairs to get to where you all were by the pool.

“I’m all good, lad.” He dapped up a few people. He had been inside after putting Teddy down and then had just kind of chilled in her nursery for a while making sure she was okay. He was exhausted after his game and you appreciated him being so active with how many people flooded your house today. He liked to retreat after matches so this was a little abnormal for the normal post game routine. “Little wet?” He whispered behind you. You leaned back into him. He winced feeling your wet body and hair cold against his warm skin. You hummed. He wrapped his strong arms around you anyways, crossing his muscles over your chest.

“Before the pool… I was on my way up to you.” You reached behind you and dragged your nails down his neck a little harsher, gaining his full attention.

“And now you're all wet.” He cooed. You giggled rolling your neck to the side resting your head back onto his shoulder.

“I was gonna get wet anyways, right?” You asked him batting your eyelashes up at him. He looked away from you with a smirk trying to ignore your comment and pay attention to the conversation ensuing around you.

“It’d be a little different. I’ll show you later.” He whispered resting his chin onto your shoulder. He kissed your cheek and you felt a shiver run through your body. You shuddered with anticipation but also from your wet clothes sticking to your now cold skin.

You went inside a bit later with Lauren and Winnie to your kitchen to make margaritas. Nothing new was happening here. 1942, ice, lime, agave, simple as. You grabbed everything and placed it on the counter and Lauren took over from there. Hers were ‘better’ i.e. she just put more tequila in. You sat at the island with Winnie. You snooped and saw she was on the dating app Raya so you proceeded to tease her and then asked to ‘play.’ Winnie insisted it wasn’t a game to play, she was in fact looking for love.

“No, no, no! This one is a no. Absolutely not.” You sighed as you swiped again and again on Winnie’s account profiling potential matches.

“Why are you even on Raya? You already have access to the gems of that app.” Lauren asked, pausing, holding the cocktail shaker. Raya was the dating app that a lot of athletes used because you had to authenticate and apply to get in so it was better for them but in turn a lot of girls used it in an effort to meet someone like a footballer. Which at the moment, there were a few in your back garden.

“No, I don’t Lauren… because someone keeps hooking up with every man.” Winnie complained, grabbing her phone back from you. She really was only referring to Jude and Marcel, only one was a footballer but she felt like her point still stood.

“Two? Calm down… You were Miss. T has rosters full.” Lauren said back to her pouring the margaritas over ice. She was teasing Winnie because she had ranted on at a dinner once back in New York about how amazing it was to have a professional athlete likely become her brother in law but alas she had not exactly reaped the rewards the same way Lauren had.

“You both need to relaxxxx. You’ll find someone who’ll make you happy and… “ You continued to babble buzzed unintentionally about how perfect your life was indirectly and how they'll eventually have relationships and families. Lauren and Winnie rolled their eyes simultaneously. You were then cut off.

“Y/N, I get you’re a mum and getting married” she laughed. “But not everyone has to do that. I’m perfectly fine like this.” You rolled your eyes dismissing her. Lauren had a firm stance on wanting to always be the ‘fun aunt’ but she was softer than that. She’d be good with kids. You let her yap away about stuff like this because it was authentically her to stand her ground but another more fragile side would always peek through the cracks of her hard exterior. You watched Lauren’s eyes light up and her lips pull into a devious smirk watching the boys outside from the kitchen.

“So what about Jude?” You asked bluntly cutting off her thoughts as she slid a glass over to you. You took your first sip and winced at the harsh burn of the alcohol.

“What about Jude?” She looked at you like you were asking about someone she barely spoke to. Lauren loved to flirt but she was seeing Jude and you knew that.

“Aren’t you talking to him?” You knew she was, she told you she was, Trent told you she was, Jude told Trent she was. She was in Madrid what felt like every other week and if she wasn’t he was flying her to wherever he was.

“No…” She lied poorly so you waited for the truth sipping her drink. Maybe it was better. “Fine, yeah but you think Jude Bellingham isn’t fucking other girls in Madrid?” She said with a bit of sarcasm. You gave her a soft smile. She could put on a good show that’s for sure, she was being herself, yeah, but you knew the glimmer in her eyes well that she really meant ‘how am I meant to know if the boy I like isn’t fucking other people.’

“I don’t know, does he think Lauren Young is fucking other guys in New York, Liverpool, London, and” You were going to name more cities recalling all the places she’d been lately. Your comment seemed judgmental but it wasn’t her bedroom life you cared about. You cared about how she she was feeling about a boy you knew pretty well. They didn’t have to label it if they didn’t want to but clearly they were veering towards dating.

“That’s not nice…” She flicked her eyes at you meanly. You stood up from your stool and walked around the island to her. This Lauren was the one that would always win. The one that really cared. She loved having sex, playing around with men, nothing wrong with that but to say she didn’t care at all about any of it wasn’t true. She liked him and he liked her.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You giggled. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” You hugged her and rested your head on her shoulder. “I just meant maybe you two should clear the air a little, be honest.” You emphasized with real sentiment. “but what do I know I'm a ‘mum.’” You quipped back at her.

“Y/N, don’t be like that! Lauren was just saying she wants to get dicked down whenever she wants by whoever she wants.” Winnie chimed in stopping your subtle jabs. They weren’t serious but she didn’t care listening to you two go tick for tat.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Lauren laughed cheersing Winnie’s glass. Lauren was keeping her and Jude’s monogamy pretty hush. So every time she traveled Winnie thought she was seeing other people, she wasn’t.

“And I don’t get dicked down?” You asked offended stepping back from them reverting the conversation back to yourself.

“I don’t know, what's all that like lately?” Winnie asked you, tracing the shape of Trent’s figure through the window. You started laughing. You and Trent had sex a lot considering his schedule and you had a one year old. Hell, you were waking up getting eaten out from behind. Winnie and Lauren watched you giggle and waited for you to answer impatiently.

“It’s really good. Really, really good.” You answered with a smug smile looking outside at Trent not at them.

“What’s annoying is you know it’s actually really good when she won't tell us. It’s when we yapp on and on about it. That’s when you know you’re actually trying to convince yourself the sex was good.” Lauren explained to Winnie.

“Lucky… So annoying, honestly.” Winnie quipped with an eye roll.

It was George’s birthday so you wanted to go, you really did, but logistically this was insane. George had invited some boys on this birthday trip to go to the United States, which Trent initially thought, given the location, that would somehow convince you but it didn’t. They were going all the way to Nevada for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. While that sounded amazing, it took almost half a day just to travel there. It was nice to include you, you didn’t expect to be but it was a relaxed trip, you’d gone on holiday with a lot of them before. This was just such a bad idea but Trent was hell bent. Yes, he would be mid season but if it meant you got to watch an F1 race he’d certainly find a way. It was late November and your baby was not your baby. She was 14 months and it felt like she was practically a teenager.

“Baby, I swear it’ll be so fun. Promise. George told me that Winnie should come as well. It won’t be just you and lads. Your parents can take Ted, please, baby.” He was begging you like he wanted to go to a party and you were his parent.

“T, I never said you couldn’t go!” You giggled massaging his muscular shoulders leaned over the back of the couch as he sat with Teddy. Her cute gaze looking up at you. You pressed a kiss to her lips before you kept talking. “Honestly, I just don’t think it makes sense for me to go to Las Vegas with a bunch of English boys.”

“It’s because we’re English?” His eyes narrowed at you in confusion and then he laughed. “That’s such a random bullshit lie Y/N. You’re just being lazy, come with me. Come have fun with me.” He begged you. You’d be lying if your mind didn’t immediately rush to the idea of having him alone in a hotel room for a few days. Just the way his arms were wrapped so strongly around your baby girl, how gentle his thumb moved over her cheek. You were jealous of Teddy right now, she always got his attention when he was home. Summer seemed ages ago already and you missed him, his time felt hard to come by.

“It’s not a lie, this is just a lad’s holiday in Las Vegas… Do you understand how that sounds? Like it's just a bunch of boys flying to Las Vegas… like casinos, strip clubs, I don't know what you're doing” You went to keep talking, explaining to him that ‘lads on tour’ is really only fun if you're one of the lads.

“Yeah, George, big into strip clubs, baby.” He teased you. You said it more as a description of Las Vegas not really thinking about what they were going to actually do. George definitely had rigid principles. A strip club just was not his vibe at all so to be fair the idea that it’d be something they’d do was pretty far out of the question. “You didn’t mind crashing the first time, look how that turned out… Made the most perfect girl in the whole world. Huh? Are you perfect, my baby bear?” Trent cooed in between pressing a million kisses onto Teddy. You could barely make out his words but you knew what he was saying. “C’mon baby. It'll be quick” He whined.

“It quite literally will not. It’s like a 10 hour flight, T.” You complained, squeezing his shoulder a little tighter cheekily. He winced at the tension you pinched his muscles with.

“See you’re already doing your math in your head. I know you’ve got half of your trip planned by the time I’m even finishing this sentence.” He teased. He joked with you that you often had your own mathematical system in your head. The way you processed things ahead of time. Really this mathematical system was just a form of anxiety he didn’t experience. It consisted of problem solving the likes of ‘if its an 8 hour time difference and a 10 hour flight, we’ll have to leave England on this date at this time, etc, etc, etc.’ It was exhausting and you were relieved that he thought it was endearing and not crazy.

When you landed in Las Vegas it was late and you went straight to the hotel. Your parents had kindly taken Teddy. You’d only be away from her for about 72 hours total and about one of the days would be spent traveling. Nevertheless, it made you so nervous. You really didn’t leave her overnight ever. You didn’t want to. It stressed you out but you had a lovely flight with Trent regardless. You collapsed into the hotel bed almost immediately upon arrival.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You giggled leaning into the pillows behind you. Trent laid on top of you entirely. His weight was crushing you but you didn’t mind. He sighed and he nuzzled into your neck.

“Baby, I miss her.” He muffled into your skin. You pouted hearing him. He was always honest with you, he just wasn’t always keen about letting himself be vulnerable but here he was. It just fell out. He really missed Teddy.

“Me too, T. It’s okay though. I’ll be with her soon.” You rubbed his back hoping to comfort him the best you could knowing you were going to see her and he was going straight back to work.

“I just am starting to feel bad like I’m already away from her so much and now I’m just tacking on days. I didn’t think about it this way and now I just miss my baby.” He spoke still muffled against you. “Sorry…” He unnecessarily apologized.

“It’s okay, baby.... You know you can tell me these things, T? I want to know. I understand. I miss her so much but she’ll be fine. Probably doesn’t even know what's going on. Will be back with mummy and daddy in no time.” You giggled thinking of your little girl.

“I feel like a bad dad. I’m so happy you’re connecting with her. Seeing you with her, I love it all, really, but I’m jealous. I’m getting nervous I’m away from her too much. Like it didn’t surprise me she said your name first. I knew it. I could feel it. As much as it’s all jokes, I'm starting to get worried.” You stroked up his spine once more before pausing. You felt horrible he felt that way. You understood he was definitely away from home more than you could have ever predicted. You never imagined seeing him so infrequently in and out of the house but that didn’t mean the time he was home with you and with Teddy wasn’t incredibly impactful. Trent loved his job more than anything in the world but you don’t think he ever anticipated what it’d feel like to have her. You pressed your lips to his hair and he just clung to you.

“You’re the best dad to her. I promise.” You whispered. Trent loved you, of course he did but you were an independent person. Teddy needed so much, she needed to learn and grow and feel and he hated that even though he was doing the thing that allowed her to have the life she does, he was missing so much of it. He fell asleep quietly, thoughts screaming. You stayed up just having a think inspecting every inch of his skin. Every divet, tan line, and freckle. It sounds ridiculous but you wanted to just see how human he was. With Trent, he just did things on another level. He was so good at… life. He was a great athlete, a great partner, a great son, he was everything and you loved him for all those incredible high points yet the moments where he wavered, the ones where he may have felt low, you really loved him for those. You selfishly wanted to know you took care of him, that he trusted you, that he felt safe with you. The moments when he wasn’t on the biggest stage. The confidence he showed learning how to be a dad was equally if not much more impressive than watching him walk out onto a pitch. He was everything to you and Teddy. You wanted to tell him for hours just ramble all the things you adored about him but you figured you’d let him sleep for now. You’d tell him in the morning and you did.

The circuit was hot. You got to the grid for qualifying the day before the race in Las Vegas and the weather was warm and it was packed with people. This was Trent’s element. As reserved as he could be he had an aura and charisma that drew people to him and made these types of events his domain. He was away from home. He could step out of his comfort zone a little so you pushed him to dress that way. You had met with a friend of yours who was a personal stylist a couple months ago. She had texted you when Prada’s new collection came into Selfridges. You were headed into Manchester to hopefully find something for Teddy’s birthday but ended up with a lot of bags for yourself and Trent including a pair of beige overalls, you were begging him to wear tomorrow. Overtime in your relationship, Trent just gave in to letting you dress him. It started slow trying to convince you he could rival the fits you pulled together but the fact of the matter is that you had done this for a living. You could strike a football as well but you wouldn’t try to tell him you could do it as a job.

“No, you do not understand.” You emphasized with a laugh trying to get him to comprehend just how good he really looked. You had dressed Trent in a white tee. He underestimated how good it was. You always remember seeing him pulling a similar white t-shirt over his head the first night you spent with him. It was seared into your brain. It was mouth watering. His tan was still lingering from summer. He got sent a pair of trousers from Adidas you approved and it looked almost too good. Too clean. As much as you had thought about what Trent would wear you didn’t really anticipate you would be attending this so your outfit really was an afterthought. You opted for an embroidered crop top you had picked up in your Selfridges haul and a khaki mini skirt paired with a Mui Mui green bag. You didn’t think too much about this but Trent told you you probably wouldn't go back to the hotel before dinner so you wanted to wear something that could work for your whole day.

After you visited one of the garages you walked through the paddock holding Trent’s hand. Winnie met up with you and you actually were having a really good time. The sun was out and it was just good vibes celebrating with George. You went up into a hospitality suite overlooking the track. Trent offered to get you drinks so you took him up on it. While he was waiting, a teammate of his came up behind him to say hello. Jadon Sancho played in the Bundesliga so he wasn’t in England during the year currently but you had met him maybe once or twice. He had a funny couple years between moving clubs and just coming back into form so he wasn’t around the international team much anymore but he and Trent were still tight. He and his friends had also managed to swing this trip.

“Nah, fiancé now bro. I haven’t spoken to you, you know. You go to Germany, we don’t hear from you.” Trent filled Jadon in on his life at the bar with a laugh. To be fair, keeping in touch got slightly difficult if they were both in season. You hadn’t shared the engagement on social media so unless you or Trent had let someone know directly they wouldn’t know.

“Yeah? She here?” Jadon asked as he leaned onto the bar top. Trent picked his head up to nod towards your direction for him to follow with his eyes.

“Yeah, mate. Her sister as well.” Trent confirmed. Jadon licked his lips gazing through the room. He eyed Winnie immediately. Trent's eyes narrowed, a little surprised by Jadon's response to looking at her then the light bulb in his head went off. He thought maybe this was his chance to finally give Winnie someone from his roster.

“You should come say hello.” Trent told him presenting the offer with feigned innocence. As if Jadon wanted to come say hi to you, which you're sure he would’ve done, he was lovely, but the hot single girl next to you was definitely a driving force. “You and your boys should come out with us tonight.” Jadon nodded as Trent picked up the two drinks for you and Winnie.

“Sound. Girls coming with you all night?” He asked and Trent just laughed squeezing his shoulder dragging him off the bar. Jadon and him caught up as they made their way through a crowded room.

“He’s cuteeeee” Winnie sang in your ear watching Trent talk to Jadon at the bar.

“I don't really know anything about him. They were friends before we met and then he moved so I don't know much.” You told her the honest truth. You didn’t know much about Jadon and the things you did know were mostly football related. ‘Good dribbler’ and ‘techy’ didn’t really help you get to know someone any better.

“I’d be interested in finding out more” Winnie cooed, squeezing your arm with a big smile on her face. You weren’t really watching her, you were watching Trent. The sun barrelled into the room through the glass windows and he just looked unreal. His high cheek bones catching the sun, his dark brown eyes lit with honey hues, you could see his annoyingly long eyelashes you were envious of from all the way where you were standing. Just the way he moved and walked was so hot. He unintentionally was driving you insane.

“He looks so fucking good, Win.” You moaned to her and he did… he looked sexy. She laughed a little at your desperation for someone you were engaged to. It’s not like you had to build the courage to go up and get his number, you had it already, you had his baby too. “Don’t make this something it’s not but I feel like he thinks of me as a mum now” you confided in Winnie.

“You are a mum.” She laughed so you rolled your eyes at her. You didn’t mean literally. It’s not like you weren’t having sex or either of you weren’t enjoying it. Trust you were. Sex was just in your bed more often than not now because you had a child so you werent exactly going to fuck on the kitchen counter. You had to be quiet, there were boundaries you needed to abide by. Seeing him right now though made you want to just pull him into a room and rip off all his clothes. You looked at Winnie as you spoke trying to make sure you articulated this correctly because you weren’t unhappy. You were horny.

“I kinda just wish he would blow my back out.” Your sentence was cut off when Trent came and interrupted. Winnie popped her lips into a smile hoping he didn’t catch the last bit of your sentence.

“Baby, you remember Sanch right?” Trent asked you. You smiled and turned towards Jadon. You gave him a hug,

“Yeah, yeah course” You leaned back adjusting the way the waistband of your skirt sat on your hips suddenly feeling very hot under Trent’s gaze. “You alright?” You asked, trying to act normal but you were distracted. You made quick work of the conversation and he was as nice and polite as you remembered but funny as well. You forgot. You forgot to tell Winnie he was funny. He asked about Teddy telling you you looked incredible for having a one year old. You rolled your eyes not believing him but you moved on. Trent began to introduce him to Winnie when Jadon turned his head towards her in acknowledgment with a smug look.

“Winnie.” She reintroduced herself talking over Trent. Winnie said her name in the most uppity way she could, sticking out her hand to shake his. Trent slid his hand around your waist and squeezed your side. You shook your head because you could see exactly what was unfolding in front of you. Trent proud of his handiwork although he really didn’t do anything, Winnie eager to finally meet a friend of Trent’s she might actually hit it off with, and Jadon naively or maybe willingly stepping into your sister’s trap. Winnie loved to be the object of desire, to be saved, honestly,so did you it was fun playing the damsel in distress sometimes. But Winnie wanted it to be done in a way that was nasty. Defile me type vibes so when she met a guy she was interested in she started her introduction with her nose high up in the air so when she was eventually on her knees for them it would be all the more thrilling. They’d feel like they conquered her, broke her down into this. Really, the whole time she was playing them, getting exactly what she wanted.

You watched the race qualifiers and then went out to dinner for George's birthday round one. This was a little more relaxed then what you had planned for tomorrow so Jadon and two of his friends joined in. There was a lot of tension at your end of the table. Winnie and you drinking and being probably too handsy. It was a steamy dinner but everyone made it out of the restaurant and to the club clothed. It was a hot club. Like you were actually warm. You were in a roped off area so you had space but the enclosed place filled with a lot of people still made you skin slightly slick. It smelt like perfume and sweat in a deliciously sweet way. It was loud in there too. You could feel the bass of the music in your chest. The house edits of Top 40 songs were blurring into one tedious beat. You watched on inconspicuously as Jadon and Winnie ‘talked.’ That's at least what she said she was going to do when she got up.

“I’ve heard good things about your sister from Trent” Jadon spoke in Winnie’s ear.

“Oh yeah?” Winnie asked in response, a little confused where he was going but also not at all. It wouldn’t exactly the first time someone spoke to Winnie about you on a night out. People would always ask for threesomes, get with her to get with you, all sorts of bullshit so she kind of rolled her eyes at it but listened anyway. She felt disappointed and all over the place because he seemed so nice so she didn’t think he’d try to mess about with you, especially considering the ring on your finger but she was drunk and so was he so what did she really know.

“Yeah. Heard she’s a good girl. Are you?” He whispered and his words dripped like honey. It sent a shiver down her spine. Winnie internally was screaming. This. This is what she wanted. The way his hand caressed her hip, slipping his thumb into the waistband of her trousers, his accent, the whole thing had her reeling in excitement but she presented cool and calm.

“Mmm no.” she replied after a minute of pretending to think. She pressed her drink to her lips hiding her curling lips.

“No?” Jadon questioned her with a smirk. It was so much fun riling a boy up and if he was hot, even better. Her body was on fire under his touch. “I think I can make you a good girl f’me though. What’d you think?” He kept talking. His words had her in a trance, his hands on her body had her possessed.

“Would you rather I be good or bad for you when you take me home?” She whispered, dropping her drink to her side to hold it by her side. Jadon bit his lip and narrowed his gaze getting more and more entangled with her. Winnie was a lot braver than you. Her forwardness being one of the ways in which she was but it also got her exactly what she wanted.

You laughed imagining what their conversation was like. Their words and accents colliding making the perfect mess. Winnie’s valley girl american slang trying to converse with Jadon from South London was just jokes but you couldn't imagine the direction their conversation had taken or maybe you could but in anycase watching two people meet for the first time, touch for the first time, make advances, Jadon's hand creeping up Winnie’s bare waist had you tense.

“Hi” you giggled, turning around to look at Trent. You were sitting on his lap at a small table, you didn’t need to greet him but you wanted his attention. Winnie had gotten what she wanted and you were envious. You had been wanting Trent.

“You okay? You want to go?” You hated that he jumped there first. You wanted his hand to slide up on your leg not take you home. The fizz that was sparkling away in you went flat. You were focused on his dominant hand holding his drink resting on top of your thigh, the wet bottom of the glass running down the inside of your leg some. You’d not paid any attention to the one he had just managed to sneak under your skirt. He grazed over your covered core with his fingers. You bit your lip knowing better than to make a noise or react. You suddenly lost your breath and any thought in your head. He readjusted in his seat underneath you purposefully pushing his hips up into you. The club was loud but you had to still fight back a moan. “You still want your back blown out?” He whispered into your ear. The warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear and the feeling of his soft lips grazing over it had you weak. You stiffened. You were mortified he had heard you earlier today and then suddenly not at all, excitement washing over you. You leaned your head back onto him. You hummed a confirmation interested in what he had to offer seeing as he knew now.

“You’re gonna do what I say, alright?” He continued whispering to you in a low sexy tone quietly just for you to hear. You hummed once more feeling his fingers press tight circles over your covered clit in the most discreet way. You stared straight ahead looking at nothing in particular trying to be nonchalant. “Go to the bathroom and start…” That's all he said.

“What…?” You genuinely didn’t understand. He gripped you a little tighter with his other hand signaling to you he was serious about what he was saying.

“I want you to go to the bathroom and I want you to play with this pussy till I get there.” His words made your whole body feel numb. His commanding tone had you dizzy. What was going on?

“Are you serious?” You attempted a whispered back, completely shocked. The feeling of his lips peeling and pressing onto the skin of your neck was hypnotizing. You could barely focus but you heard him hum the same way you had before confirming that it was exactly what he wanted. Clearly Trent had been feeling the same way you had and was taking matters into his own hands. That said, you were out with friends, you were parents now, you were in public. Was he really asking for you to go do this? That wasn’t really the crazy part though it was the fact that you were actually going to go and do it for him.

“Video it.” He continued to instruct you. “Send it to me and I’ll decide if you’re ready for me to come and blow your back out” His words alone had you dripping. Your jaw slacked a little. Honestly, you’d done far too many inappropriate things with him but every. single. time. it just made your heart race and your pussy pulse. He was so hot and you were going to do whatever he wanted you to. You stood and he helped you up but practically pushed you off eager for you to get going. You didn’t turn back to look at him. You ‘dropped’ your phone instead and bent over to pick it up. You leaned over putting yourself on full display to him. The black thong you had on not covering any of you. Your ass in his face. You stood back up and adjusted your skirt but flashed him a little bit more of your asscheek one more time. He shut his eyes softly, shaking his head with a smirk on his face. He loved this. He loved you. You peered over your shoulder to make sure he was watching and walked off.

When Trent got a text from you he'd never been more excited. He could feel all the blood rush to his cock. The second you sat down on his lap at the club he was trying not to think about fucking you but right now it was the only thing he wanted to think about. He leaned back in his seat so only he could see his screen. There you were sitting on the counter of the restroom, legs open for him teasing your clit. You were wet. You had a hard time getting started but the idea of him watching in front of everyone and having to behave until he got to you was setting your desire for him a blaze. You wanted him to come and blow your back out badly.

“Just gonna go make sure she’s okay.” Trent tapped George on the knee letting him know. It was more of a ‘don’t look for me’ type thing then a ‘I’m worried’ type of notification though.

“Yeah mate, all good.” George answered him watching him puff out a bit of air gearing up for you. George smirked. Obviously, you were just fine. Trent knocked on the door and you hopped off the sink completely giddy but almost dizzy. God, you had really worked yourself up. You opened the door slightly and leaned your head against it to peak out. You couldn’t not smile seeing the cheeky eager grin on his face.

‘So dirty f’me, baby. Getting off at a club” He teased you as he pulled your bottom lip with his hand. You stepped back into the room and he closed the door. His free hand reaching behind him to lock it.

“Stop!” You whined desperately. “I need you and I want you, T” You dragged your hands desperately down his chest playing with the waistband of his trousers immediately. You were like an enigma to Trent sometimes, you were so strong willed, knew exactly what you wanted and yet you were so submissive. He loved it and ate every bit of it up.

“I know you do and you didn’t tell me. Gotta tell me, pretty girl. How am I meant to know?” He said in a smug voice. He grabbed your hips and pushed you back towards the sink. He slowly moved his hands up your body grazing his thumbs over your recently reclaimed toned stomach.

“You always know when I need you, please.” You begged him. He brushed the underside of your boobs and you moaned. He smiled and looked at you with his big brown eyes. You were a goner tonight. He slid his hands back down your stomach away from your boobs, over your hips, and kneaded your ass.

“So fucking beautiful, yeah?” He hummed bringing his lips to your neck. He began to leave wet harsh kisses, nibbling at your most sensitive area. “So fucking sexy. Just for me.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling you and he was right. He continued moving his hands behind your thighs and lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around the waist the way you’d been fantasizing about all day. He placed you back onto the counter but not too far back, a little towards the edge, just where he needed you.The hem of your skirt pushed up and he slid his hands up your thighs.

“So I did a good job then?” You asked eager to know his review of the video. Hi fingers ghosted over your wet pussy. You were dreaming of how good his would’ve felt as opposed to yours.

“Don’t know, what do you think? You tell me what you like more. Do you like when you do it or..” he dragged his words before he paused. You felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. Or what? You needed him to move faster. You could feel your wetness on the counter beneath you. He was so devastatingly beautiful staring back at your smug as can be. He knew the answer before he even started.

“Baby…” you moaned quietly and desperately. He dragged two of his fingers down the inside of your thigh then back up towards your core. It was torturously slow. He finally gave into you and ran his fingers through your pussy, your slick coating his fingers. You slid your hands up his chest and pulled at his shirt to bring him closer to you for a kiss. You couldn’t fight back a whisper though, feeling his fingers finally dip inside. He pulled away from your kiss with a smug smile.

“Where?” he asked ambiguously. You were not in a head space to be able to read his mind right now.

“Oh fuck, that feel so good!” You whined. He stopped his movements suddenly though and you wanted to cry but he looked at you with intent telling you to answer the question. You figured it out. You guessed, but you were right. “In my pocket.” you breathed heavily trying to move a little to get him to continue. He took his free hand and reached into the pocket of your skirt and pulled out the tiny black thong you’d been wearing. He just tucked it away into his own pocket and swiftly moved on. Sometimes Trent was even too cool, too calm, and too ahead of the game for you to even keep up. His fingers began to work you up again. He went slow at first curling his digits into the place you loved for them to be and then up to a blistering pace. You were soaking wet, in a more conscious state you probably would've been concerned you would slide off the counter top but at the moment Trent’s frame pushing you back and his legs keeping yours open was all you needed You felt that familiar knot in your stomach form. You shut your eyes overwhelmed by the pleasure. The knot snapped swiftly before you could tell him. Your pussy pulsating around his fingers. You released and a sensation of pleasure washed over you.

“What'd you think, baby? Who makes you feel better, huh?” Trent loved being praised and praise he deserved. You had a hard time coming back down to earth. Your chest was heaving, you could feel a bead of sweat run down your neck.

“You, baby. Oh my god, definitely you.” You giggled out of breath leaning back against the bathroom mirror with a tired smile.

“What I thought. I always take care of you don’t I?” You nodded as he dragged his thumb over your core again gathering your slick between your legs before he parted your lips a little more to swipe over your clit slowly. His touch sent a shiver up your spine, pushing out a soft moan. “Just gotta ask me, baby then you wouldn’t ever have to touch yourself like that. Hmm? Tell me what you were thinking about touching yourself?” You gripped his strong biceps urgently as he started to move his finger faster and harder on your clit.

“You, T.” you whined. He smirked back at you proud. Your pussy began to throb oversensative and desperate for more of him. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum, baby. Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” Your jaw slacked as you convulsed. You felt like you were going to pass out.

“There we go, baby. Think you’re ready now.” He pulled you off the counter onto wobbly legs but he held you steady. “You still want me?” He asked gently, you nodded still coming down from your orgasms, so he turned you to face the mirror tenderly. You bent over for him. He didn’t need to ask. This is all you’d been thinking about. He traced your spine with one of his fingers. Just his touch made goosebumps rise on your skin. His hand reached around you and wrapped around your throat which made you gasp. He pulled you back to him so you were standing against him. You could see yourself pressed against him in his strong hold in the mirror.

“Trent…” you whimpered with barely any air left in your throat. The lack of oxygen made you felt dizzy and you loved it. His lips all over your neck. You pushed your ass back into him. He smacked your ass cheek and you let out a delicious moan for him. You jolted further forward on the countertop arching your back more. He pumped himself a few times before he pressed his tip leaking pre cum against your clit. He was slow despite your eagerness. He grazed over your hole teasingly before he sank in.

“This what you wanted, beautiful?” He asked as he began to move in and out of you. Your brain was in a complete fog. You had no other thoughts other than the ones about him. You moaned yes what felt like a thousand times loving every second his cock filled you. You felt one of his hands let go of your hip. Trent reached into his pocket and pulled out your panties. He seamlessly grabbed one of your wrists and pinned it behind your back and then the other. You rested your cheek against the mirror. It was the only way you could support yourself as he continued to thrust into you. He wrapped and twisted the lace material tight around your wrists and held them back against your hot skin. Your mouth parted, overwhelmed by what he was doing. Your eyes rolled back when he began to hit deeper inside of you with new leverage. “C’mon, answer pretty girl ” he asked harshly. You were too fucked out to care but it was probably a good thing the music was so loud in the club so no one could hear the lewd noises you and your skin slapping was creating. You could barely answer him, too focused on the feeling of him. He lifted one of his legs to your side to fuck you from a different angle and your mind went blank. His cock hit your gspot in a way that had you crumbling all over again. He slowed and pulled out of you. He turned you around and lifted you up back onto the counter in one swift sequence.

“That was so good. More, baby” you requested. “Want your cum inside of me.” Your eyelids felt so heavy. You smiled at him incredibly turned on. He looked at you and thought he could cum just from the beautiful lustful expression on your face. You pulled him into you and kissed down his neck. You sucked on his sensitive skin disregarding your better judgment. You didn't leave marks on him too often and definitely not in places people could see during the season. He didn’t stop you though. You bit into his skin desperately leaving behind markings. Souvenirs he could take home from your trip. He let out a breathy moan before he couldn’t wait any longer, he plunged back into you. He stretched your soaked pussy out so perfectly. He thrusted in and out of you again and again. You were in your own world. Nothing else but each other existed right now and it felt like that. You were completely intoxicated by the other. The way you sounded, the way you felt, the way you looked, it was hard to last any longer than you had without cumming again.

“I’m gonna cum.” You moaned desperately, feeling his hand drop in between your bodies and begin circling your throbbing clit. Your whines now matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Your lips stuck parted as he fucked you into another orgasm.

“Cum f’me, baby.” he grunted just about to reach his own high. He kissed your shoulder and bit down when he felt you clench around his cock. “Be a good girl f’me. Cum.” He demanded as you made a mess on his length. You clung to him tighter then before wrapping your legs around him so he couldn’t pull away. Your vision went a little blurry when you felt his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands pulled your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way completely flush against him. He kissed you everywhere he could. “Did such a good job baby…” He whispered out of breath as he stilled before pulling out. His fingers pushed his cum back into your sensitive pussy.

“I love you so much, T.” you smiled shyly looking up at him. You grabbed his hand with yours and brought it to your lips. You gently kissed over his knuckles. He laughed seeing your thong still wrapped around your one wrist loosely now.

“I love you. So good f’me.” He cooed. You kissed his lips before he stopped you from trying to unravel your panties. He took them from you and pocketed them again. “We’ll use them later… promise.” he winked at you and your heart faltered with excitement as he helped you off the sink with a giggle.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 15 xx

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Prompt 24: Vicissitudes

One minute it had been like a deer, almost; then Azem blinked and found it to be somewhere between a giraffe and an alligator. In the span of another breath it was too warped to properly follow with the eye, afterwards becoming a collage of mammalian faces -- then it almost took the shape of a cart. The longer she watched it, the more she found herself hypnotized.

“...Are you quite sure we cannot keep it?” Hythlodaeus gently protested, leaning out dangerously far as the three of them peered around the knoll. “It’s gone past the point of being broken to simply being fascinating.”

“Absolutely not.” Emet-Selch bristled. “This is an utterly flagrant disregard for even the most basic conceptual safety protocols. It’s irresponsible is what it is! I’ve never seen a more unstable creation in my life.”

“What was it, I wonder?” Azem breathed. “Or...what was it supposed to be?”

“Not even the locals are sure,” Hythlodaeus replied. “Which is, admittedly, the lion’s share of why I called you both here.”

Emet-Selch frowned. “It tore both its creators and their lab to shreds. Not even a concept crystal remains.”

“To shreds, you say?” Hythlodaeus asked.

The two devolved into their usual ribbing-and-bickering. Azem simply sighed, feeling her heart tighten as she continued to watch the creature. As grotesque as it was, it wasn’t so far gone that it didn’t still have some lingering sense of dignity – a distant echo of what it once might have been. That was worst of all, because all she could see was a sad suggestion of something that had been noble, perhaps even beautiful. Only...it had fallen.

Was it in pain? Was it suffering? She couldn’t even tell. It didn’t move right, and worse still -- it made no sound whatsoever.

“Seph.” She jumped as she felt Emet-Selch’s lips at her ear. As she turned, however, he gestured for her to be quiet. She could see his golden gaze affixed far beyond her – far beyond the world. A glance beyond him proved Hythlodaeus’ eyes equally out of focus.

“What do you two see?” she whispered.

“A...horrifying loss of aether,” Hythlodaeus replied at last.

“It appears to be draining the ambient environment in an effort to maintain its form. Any form.” Emet-Selch squinted, then blinked himself back to physical reality. “Look: from here you can already see the grass starting to brown.”

Azem leaned out again. It wasn’t something she was used to looking for, but he was right: the restless blades immediately surrounding the beast were yellowing, the flowers within them withered. A nearby tree had begun shedding its leaves, pouring them into the river.

It was with that sight that the Traveller stood. With a twitch of the fingers her fiery blade found her hand, and her shield hung upon her arm.

“I take it you want me out in front.” She turned with a knowing grin.

Emet-Selch secreted her a lopsided smirk. With a flourish, he reached up to snap his staff into his hand. “Only because magic is so much less work for me, my dear.”

“And, if we’re being honest...” Hythlodaeus winked as he reached for his bow, “We are rather fond of the view from behind you.”

“Is that any way to speak to a member of the Convocation?” Azem grinned.

And then, without warning, she spun about and charged off.

She made it halfway to the beast before a tentacle – or was it a neck??? -- caught her square in the chest and sent her straight through the tree. Emet-Selch caught her just in time before she hit the water, turning it to snow beneath her for a softer landing; the beast whirled on him in a blossom of teeth and mouths, only recoiling slightly as he palmed an explosion into its faces. It scattered then, rolling out of reality entirely; creature was somehow everywhere at once, changing shape so rapidly that neither of them could even look at it.

“Hythlodaeus!” Azem cried.

“It’s...it’s here! The core is here!” He called, running after it.

“No good,” Emet-Selch said through grit teeth. “I suspect only he can see it properly anymore. We have to stabilize it somehow.”

Azem took a few ineffectual swipes as the creature billowed around her; her blade passed through it like wet paper.

“Forget this,” she said. She shrugged her weapons into the grass and bolted after Hythlodaeus.

“Wait! Seph!” Emet-Selch was at her side in a blink. “What are you doing?” “We’re alone, right?”

“Yes?” “Then there won’t be any shame in it.”

He squinted at her. She kept her eyes on the beast as it vortexed together, briefly took a saurine form, and descended upon Hythlodaeus.

“We’re wasting time using conventional methods when it doesn’t obey reality to begin with.”

He stopped. She stopped with him, extending a hand with a smile as the wind caught her hair and blew it like a curtain of fire.

“You know what we have to do, Hades.”

“A little help would truly be fantastic!” Hythlodaeus called. “No really, don’t rush yourselves!”

“You know how I feel about this,” Emet-Selch replied at last. But his eyes were soft as he slid his hand into her own. “Not that you aren’t resplendent.”

“A pale imitation of Venat as usual, I’m afraid.” She laughed, pulling him close as hot aether began to swirl around her. “Don’t tell her I cheated again.”

He leaned his forehead to hers. “Never, my dear.”

And in that instant, his robes billowed out around him. He bloomed into the embodiment of night, a tower of bristling scales crowned in iron and bound by the crimson thread of a spider lily.

And Azem took a breath.

And she became the sun.

[waitingonher]

because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 

“whatever.” 

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

[franklysainz]

LOST IN THE PADDOCK.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary getting lost in the paddock and bumping into the current world champion was definitely not on your bingo card.

cw amara is the only oc, no use of y/n. this is my first time writing rpf since middle school, so bear with me. ALSO, this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want.

masterlist | taglist

—

"Ah, fuck," you mumble to yourself, panickedly walking away from the direction you came from while also looking for your best friend.

You call her name a few times in hopes of her popping her head out of the Ferrari building's corner but to no avail. The group and guides you had been with are nowhere to be found, and you have to avoid bumping into employees wearing the entire rainbow as they hurry around you.

You curse the moment you decided to enter the giveaway for those tickets. Although you weren't a Formula One fan, simply because you never fully listened to Amara's ramblings and analysis, when you stumbled across a giveaway of otherwise very expensive tickets, you didn't hesitate to enter it. Despite entering for her, you kept it a secret. The list of entries was long, and the odds were not in your favour, so you didn't want to get her hopes up. You couldn't contain the bubbling excitement when you got the e-mail verifying your win for two Paddock Club tickets for the Spanish Grand Prix.

After announcing it to your obsessed-with-cars best friend, you decided to make it a five-day trip, planning to sightsee Barcelona before the race weekend and spend a free day after it. The first day had been great, albeit tiring, but you had woken up the next day buzzing with anticipation to walk around the paddock. You were the assigned photographer, as you knew Amara would want to listen to everything the guide said. You were content with taking pictures of the place and her. 

Until now. You were definitely not happy with being the camera guy. Because of that, you'd just lost your group in the middle of God-knows-where, with no idea where the building you came from was. So immersed in your grumbling and reading the map on your phone- you collide with someone. Your phone and water bottle slip from your fingers, and the tote bag slips from your shoulder to your elbow. You hiss at the sudden weight shift.

The smell of rich cologne enters your nostrils, but you don't dare look up. Your cheeks burn. "Sorry." You bend down to grab your things.

The man seems to have the same idea, as seconds later, he's on his knees and gathering his things before you can reach them. "No, it's alright! I wasn't looking where I was going."

He extends his full hands with a smile, and you return a sheepish one before grabbing your things. You take a second to look at him. He wears a Red Bull cap and T-shirt, looking like everyone who hurriedly passed you with papers and phones in their hands. I should ask him for directions. He looks like he knows the place.

"Uh...Is there any way you saw a group of people with guides walking around here? I'm supposed to be with them, but I kinda lost them." You lift the camera, further explaining why you're separated from them.

He can't help but chuckle at your flushed cheeks. "Unfortunately, no," he pauses. "Are you here for the weekend?" You nod. "Haven't they given you a map, then? They usually do, to avoid people getting lost."

You show him your phone. Your fingers brush as he pulls it closer to look at the map. "Yeah, they have. But I can't figure it out. Kind of my first time coming to something like this."

He looks at you briefly before returning his gaze to the phone. "Really?" He sounds surprised. He shouldn't.

You looked out of place compared to the rich-as-fuck members of your group. You had no idea how people dressed for these occasions. Even Amara didn't really know what to pack, so you both agreed to wear comfortable clothes. With the race being during June and in Spain, you would rather be comfortable than sweaty. The only thing tying you to the group was the Paddock Club pass you wore around your neck.

"My best friend is really into this. Loves the sport. I won us the tickets, but I'm barely grasping the basics." You laugh, and he joins. You like the way his eyes crease when he smiles wide.

"Oh, you're the ones that won the tickets! Someone told me about that, I think. Congrats!" You thank him. "How's your weekend so far?"

You shrug. "T'was really fun. Until I got lost while taking pictures of the Ferrari building." He snorts.

Leaning next to him, you try to follow his finger as he scrolls around the zoomed-in map. "You figured it out yet?" 

"I think I have, yeah." He shows you the phone. "We're here. The garages are right there. You'll be watching the race on the floor above them." You nod, slowly grasping your surroundings. Turns out it's easier to figure it out when you're not panicking and a handsome stranger is helping you. "You got it?"

You flash a bright smile. "Yeah, actually, I think I do!" You look at him. "Thank you!"

He shrugs. "No problem. I know it's easy to get lost, especially with so many people running around."

"Still. Thank you. You probably have to be somewhere, and I took up a lot of your time." You step back, turning in the direction he'd shown you.

"Don't worry about it." He fixes his hair under the cap.

"Thanks again." You wave and turn to leave.

"Hey, I forgot to ask you." You turn, confused. "What team are you supporting tomorrow?"

Oh, shit.

It's like a deer caught in headlights situation. You suddenly forget all ten names of the racing teams, desperately racking your brain for an answer. You swear you know all ten.

"Uh..." you nervously clench and unclench your water bottle. "Ferrari?" It's more of a question rather than a statement.

He laughs, and your cheeks return to their warm state. Bad answer?

"Ferrari?" He asks as if saying really? You shrug, and he huffs a laugh.

"I told you I'm not good at this!" 

You hear a shout and simultaneously turn to see a man in a Red Bull shirt beckoning him over. 

"I have to go. But you should watch out for the Red Bulls. I hear they got the better cars!" He winks and waves before walking away from you.

You roll your eyes and smile wide on your lips. Of course, he'd tell you to cheer for his team. The back of your hand touches your cheek. It's incredibly warm. You blame it on the hot weather.

—

"I'm telling you, mate! She had no idea who I was!" 

Lando rolls his eyes. "And I'm telling you there's no way. Your face is plastered everywhere."

It's Charles's turn to roll his eyes. "Or maybe she was more worried about finding a way back than asking for pictures."

"Yeah, maybe she was being polite. Didn't want to attract any attention to you." Albon adds.

Max shrugs. "I don't know."

"Was she pretty?" Oscar elbows Lando's ribs, as the latter can't contain his giggle.

Max's neck flushes. He shrugs again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Ohhhhh!" George and Lando pat him on the back teasingly, and Charles laughs at Max's expression.

Before they can tease him about this mystery girl more, a woman wearing a headset informs them they have to part ways and get ready for qualifying.

—

"And Fernando was so bloody nice, too! He was more than happy to sign the cap for you!" Amara waved her hands excitedly as she recounted everything you missed while lost.

You sat near the windows overlooking the pits, watching as the teams got their cars ready for qualifying, far away from the TVs and the crowded tables, not wanting to converse with anyone but your best friend. You chewed on your extremely expensive pasta, intently listening to her meet-up with some of the drivers. 

"I can't believe you met the only driver I know," you whined, lips pouting sadly.

"I swear I didn't realise you were gone until they stopped us to greet the drivers. I was fully into that tyre explanation the guide was giving."

"Gee, thanks." You smile, giving her the middle finger.

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that. Without you, I wouldn't even be doing the stuff we did today." Amara pulls on your middle finger, and you both giggle.

"So, tell me what you did when you were alone," she urges, sipping her drink.

"You mean when you left me wandering like I was looking for my mother?" She gives you a pointed look. You shrug. "I stopped a Red Bull guy to give me directions. He was helpful and cute. Also took some pictures while I was making my way back here."

"Oh, was he a mechanic or what?"

"I don't know. Didn't catch his name." You smile as you recount his advice. "He told me to look out for the Red Bulls because they have fast cars."

"Well, he's not wrong."

You finish your food and drinks, chatting until qualifying is about to begin. You sit on the balcony, watching the cars drive on the track. You get settled, watching the small screen in front of you, commentary loud in the headset you wear. Qualifying goes by quickly, with Amara explaining things you don't understand and you nodding along.

It's no surprise—in Amara's words—that Max Verstappen came first in his Red Bull. He's the one dominating this season, after all. Second comes Carlos Sainz, and third place takes Lando Norris. Your best friend cheers a little more for him. You shoot her a look, and she just shrugs. "What? He's fast, and he's handsome." You laugh.

You decide to leave before others, not stick around for post-qualifying interviews. Although there's a great chance you can catch drivers, take pictures and get them to sign autographs, you're both far too exhausted to stay. There's always tomorrow, Amara says, and you agree.

You're looking through the Uber app to find a car available to take you back to your hotel when you hear Amara all but screech beside you. You look up, watching as she runs towards a wall decorated with a gigantic poster of three drivers. You recognise Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc and...Oh, shit.

"Can you take a picture here," she calls your name pleadingly.

Your eyes are wide and glued to the tall poster, even as you pull the camera up to your face. You snap a couple of pictures before Amara walks back to you. Her wide smile falters as she watches you stare at the poster intensely. You rack your brain for his name and know that you should know it. Amara has mentioned it before, but you just can't put your finger on it. He's in Red Bull, so it's either Checo Perez or—

"Is that Verstappen?" You point to him.

"Yep. Two-time world champion." Amara looks at the poster and then back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you looking at him like that?"

"He's the guy from earlier."

"What?!"

—

yourusername

liked by amaraiscool, yourmom, and 167 others.

tagged amaraiscool

yourusername chatted with a guy today, turns out he's the current world champion.

view all comments

amaraiscool i can't believe you met max verstappen

> yourusername amaraiscool i cant believe you let me get lost

amaraiscool and i can't believe you didnt recognise him.

> yourusername amaraiscool hes cuter in person, too bad you didn't get to see him :))

yourfriend1 THE DRESS IS SO CUTE, AMARA WTF DROP THE STORE!!!!!!

liked by yourusername

yourfriend2 johns freaking out rn lol

> yourusername yourfriend2 AW, i bet hes not being as dramatic as amaraiscool was when i told her :,)

> amaraiscool yourusername met THE max verstappen.

—

"You should totally text him," Amara says between bites.

She offers you a piece of chocolate, and you offer her a bewildered look. The hotel room's TV is playing a random spanish show, but with no subtitles, you can barely grasp what they're saying. Amara is scrolling on TikTok beside you.

"Text who?" You already know who.

"The two-time world champion. Duh." She rolls her eyes.

Amara hadn't stopped talking about the Max interaction since you'd pointed at his gigantic poster. The more she spoke on it, wiggling her eyebrows, the more you blushed. She had gone over a thousand scenarios, all of which you ended up hooking up with him. You had to remind her that despite his popularity, he was a stranger to you. 

"I don't have his number, 'mara. I told you he just helped me find my way."

She flicks your forehead. "That's what Insta is for!" 

"No."

"But why!?" Amara whines in your ear loudly, like a child when you take their candy away.

"It's weird! He's cute and all," you sit up, pointing your finger up," but he doesn't know my name," you put another one up, "he'll think I'm creepy," you point a third one, "and that is if he sees the requested message."

"Uh, you're ruining my scenario-building process."

"That's what Tumblr is for. Leave my quiet, boring life out of this." You dramatically sigh.

"Isn't that how all fanfiction starts? Boring and quiet life turned upside down?" Amara tilts her head.

"I don't know, 'ave never read any." You shrug, lips pursing.

She huffs a laugh, and you hold in yours. "Liar."

There's a pause. You think over Amara's suggestion. Max Verstappen is cute. And it wouldn't hurt to try and get his number. You'd never see him again after this weekend. And the worst he could say is: "Security, please get her out of here!" 

What the fuck am I thinking? He's a literal superstar. Me bumping into him was a one-time thing. 

Ah, fuck it. It's not the end of the world.

"You know what?" Amara turns to look at you. "If I get the chance tomorrow, I'll talk to him. Try and get his number."

Her eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "What?"

"I mean, I'm never seeing again? Right? It could go either way. He doesn't call for security to escort me like I'm crazy fangirl, or he does, and we pray no cameras recorded the moment."

Amara shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, but she can barely hold her wide smile. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Not much of a plan. I'm just indulging in your delusions."

You share a laugh before you fall back in bed beside her. You shuffle closer to your best friend's side, eager to watch the TikTok edit she is staring intensely at.

"Oh, look, it's your future boyfriend!" 

"Shut up."

[gamermattsgf]

Tokyo drifters // drag racer Chris

Warnings: car sex / tit fuck / cum kink / fingering / cunnalingus / size kink / spit kink / enemies to lovers trope / dangerous driving ig (?) / mentions of smoking and brief mentions of alcohol / praise kink

Summary: what do you get when you cross a competitive drag racer with an equally as competitive opponent? Smoke, engine oil and a whole lot of sexual tension, that’s what.

Author’s notes: and so let the obsession with racer fics begin, but with a Chris flavoured twist. Chris strikes me as the illegal, reckless driver type, hence my modern twist on something very fast and furious-esque. Chris x drag racing actually makes me wet u guys I fucking love it, like- imagine him drifting around in a red Nissan Skyline gtr with his black and white leather jacket on, UGH it really just gets me going…

“We could do whatever you want, you could fuck me in the back of your car” - HER, Chase Atlantic

The black asphalt glimmers with a coat of wetness and a pattern of oil spillage slicked over the top of it, the technicolour rainbow greased and worming in the fluorescent lights of the street as the heavy hum of revved engines purr in your ears and echo across the emptied roads.

Beer bottles and cans splash here and there on the dripping concrete with discarded cigarette cases and lighters balanced on top of littered leather jackets.

Illegal drag racing. Bets. Stacks of money shoved into the pockets of the driver that is triumphant at the end of the night.

You’re here because this place is rife with the best of the best. The ones who really soak their hands in the leather of their steering wheels, who breathe the musk of their seats, and who burn the rubber marks of their legacies into the very streets that they rocket through each early A.M.

At present you stand to the side of the pavement, smelling the stench of broiling petrol mingled with the scent of flavoured cigarette smoke.

Your eyes survey the various Suzukis, Mustangs and Toyota drifters, all in different colours and all with different painted decals to signify each of the driver’s unique personality, wrinkling your nose at the lack of female drivers leaning against their own cars.

There are plenty of people here.

The rules are simple, you bet on the driver you wager is going to win and then whatever number of votes the driver receives determines their starting position at the beginning of the race.

As your eyes pass over the mingling people chatting in heaped groups with different drivers, you dismally notice the one person who you most definitely did not want to run into tonight. The only other person who can match your speed.

Great. Well that’s just fucking fantastic.

He is on his own. His lanky figure leaning against his electric red Nissan drifter with sleek black wheels and windows, his raven brown hair dusting his face in waving curls as his hands tuck themselves into his black and white leather racer jacket.

A long white cigarette lies perched in between his lips, smoke lazily oozing out from the lit cherry before dispersing into the cool night air in front of him.

He makes no effort to smoke it properly, simply lets it rest in between the purse of his lips whilst he too, observes his competition.

That is, until his eyes trail their way over to you. Now you’re both looking at each other, and he finds it within himself to cockily smirk, your silent rivalry unnoticed by the rest of the bustling audience here to simply bet and watch the race.

You scoff quietly, pushing your feet into a walk, you’ve got to go and talk to him now.

You gradually make your way across the sopping wet tarmac road, heading straight in the direction of the one man who always knows how to rub you the wrong way.

As you go, you fish one of your own cigarettes out of your cigarette case, and then light it. It sparks, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly whilst waiting for you to reach him.

When you do, you stop and nod at him in greeting, mumbling a curt ‘Chris’ after whipping your cigarette from out of your mouth and resting it within your pointer and middle finger.

To contrast your cold behaviour, your arch nemesis tilts his head playfully, his smugness practically oozing from his figure as he retorts with a ‘hey sugar… ready to lose tonight?’. Your nostrils flare.

The only reason you came tonight to race is because you didn’t think Chris would be here.

You fucking hate racing him, in fact, you hate even being within a close proximity to him. He drives you up the wall, irritates you to no end and most importantly- absolutely chokes you with conflicted feelings.

Because how can someone that you hate this much also be someone you feel so irresistibly attracted to?

Chris always finds the most painful of ways to dig under your skin and clamp his claws around you until you’re gasping for air and practically begging to be let free.

Free from the inescapable prison that coaxes you into constantly thinking about him, even when he’s not around.

‘You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you win tonight, that money is mine’ you spit a laugh, before feeding your cigarette into your mouth and inhaling it to calm your nerves. He makes your fingers twitch, and sometimes you’re not sure if it’s because you want to wrap them around his throat or use them to pull his neck down into a kiss.

He raises his eyebrows and starts to once again use the mocking lilt to his tone that you know oh-so-well. ‘Oh really? Because last time I checked I’m pretty sure that money had my name on it’. He readjusts his lean on his red Nissan to make himself seem taller, and you grit your teeth at his teasing antics.

You don’t answer, and instead open you mouth. Chris watches the smoke that you had been holding in your lungs come seductively curling out, and he swallows nervously. It mingles between you two like a barrier of attraction before melting away into the damp air above you as you resume your usual grilling.

‘How’d you even find out about this race anyway? Thought you stayed on the South side?’

Chris shrugs and basks in the obvious annoyance your voice contains. He knows he’s in dangerous territory, this is your side of town, and you know the roads way better than him over here. But then again, when has Chris ever backed down from a challenge?

Plus, he fucking loves teasing you. He gets such a rise out of it every single time, in which case it’s worth hauling his ass all the way over to the other side town just for a race.

Just to see you.

He can’t help it, he just can’t keep himself away.

‘Friend of a friend’ he responds vaguely, before deciding to pluck the almost burnt out cigarette from his lips so that he can thrust it to the floor and crush it underneath his sneaker.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t believe that Chris managed to weasel his way into this race, because it’s definitely going to ruin your chances of going home with that prize money. To say Chris is a reckless driver is an understatement, he’s fucking good, but he also takes risks, risks that bargain with his life and the lives of others, so naturally, when people see his notorious red car pull up to races they panic and stay far behind him.

Not you though.

‘You best count your fucking days Chris because there’s no way in hell I’m letting you win this time…’.

Chris chuckles, his eyes narrowing in a siren-like way before reaching up to your mouth and slowly pulling your cigarette from out of your lips. ‘Yeah…? Well we’ll see about that, won’t we baby cakes?’ he chides, before fully stealing your cigarette and putting it into his own mouth without hesitation.

Your blood boils at his persistence and you spin around in a rage, wishing you could just run him over with your car. At least that would stop the heartbeat from pulsing in between your legs at his weirdly sexual action.

After watching you whisk away, Chris quickly gets into his car and slams his red door closed, satisfied with how flustered you had looked. Revving his engine with a humongous effort to get the race going, he knuckles his leather steering wheel before pulling away from the crowd to let them know that the race will shortly commence.

He is definitely eager to prove you wrong as he observes the way the heavy crowd of people disperse from the middle of the road and let the competitors and their cars through to their designated spots for the countdown.

Engines throttle and rev, starting up and growling like hungry beasts whilst you get into your own car. You then drive to your own assigned spot which had been conveniently placed somewhere in the middle for tonight’s race.

Suddenly, you spot a flash of red roaring up from behind you in your rear view mirror and you resist the roll of your eyes at Chris’ boy racer behaviour.

Chris’ car comes creeping up to level with yours. Slowly, the driver’s window is rolled down and you are faced with his attractive side profile, his nose delicately curving and his jawline popped. Except, now his hair is pulled back by a red bandana, leaving his earrings to glint in the fluorescent artificial light.

He faces forward, but then turns with another smirk plastered to his lips.

You roll your own window down, your engine also screaming to go, but instead of a red colour, your car exudes a violet purple hue, your front and rear lights tinted indigo with plastic filters that make the car in front of you glow a hazy pink.

‘May the best driver win, sugar’

The devil’s smile is concocted between his own teeth, the cheeky glint in his eye echoing the way he mockingly puts his pointer and middle finger up to his forehead to salute you before putting his foot on the gas pedal and roaring ahead to take his privileged place at the front of the line.

᧔♡᧓

Engines growl, their exhaust pipes spitting out puffs of gasoline scented smoke whilst each of the multicoloured cars creep into their places.

An orange car motors past you on your right, and a grey and blue one slides past your left, leaving you in the wet spray that their scuffed tyres kick up, but you’re not paying attention to them.

Craning your neck, your eyes narrow and your jaw grits at the back bumper tail of Chris’ neon red vehicle, the red brake lights glowing like the eyes of a demon as he simply sits stationary.

The city lights glow from the skyscrapers and illuminate the starting route of your racetrack, the wet asphalt making the reflections of the luminescent lampposts shine and bounce about the technicolour array of cars on display.

Chris thinks he’s better than you? Well, you’re just going to have to put that theory to the test then.

You hope that his heart beats just as competitively as yours, his eyes constantly checking for your pink headlights in his rearview mirror.

Finally, reaching into your glove compartment to slide on your black tinted sunglasses, you shut it back up again to listen to the heavily increased revs of car engines. The muffled cheers from the audience provide white background noise whilst the drivers’ exhausts rattle and their pipes growl.

A woman in sky-high stilettos then comes walking into view with a white flag raised above her head.

The crowd suddenly silences, all on the edges of their seats with anticipation.

Without another moment to lose, she quickly swipes down the flag, the white fabric fluttering as she goes before engines shriek and cars jerk forward, each driver putting the pedal to the floor. This forceful way of starting roars the inner workings of their cars whilst they frantically try to switch gears.

Coloured machines weave in and out of each other as the gods of drag racing look down upon the fast-paced urgency of the race, drivers testing one another and pushing their bodies to the limits as they zip and swerve about the road.

You keep your eyes locked upon Chris’ monster of a car though, because it easily pulls out in front and his drive forward quickly clears of any other cars. They just can’t keep up with his intricate drift work and very readily fall behind him.

You’ll admit, his turn of the wheel is masterful and his eye for the surroundings is impeccable as he nearly just shaves around corners and obstacles whilst keeping a steady track of the pathway ahead. However, this only increases your desire to win more.

You find your foot gently feathering upon the accelerator, your car rattling within your ears as the wind from your open window beats against your face and whips your hair around your neck.

You have already overtaken a handful of cars by now, with tyres screeching and smoke exuding from the rubber.

The eyes of every racer competing constantly zip about, just to check for lurking police cruises whilst traveling down the racer’s route through the nearly abandoned city road.

Your beasts for machines rocket past alleyways, giving homeless people a show as your paint jobs flash by their eyes in a juvenile blur.

Gears click as both yourself and Chris constantly press down on the clutch to drift around tight corners, your teeth gritting as you realise that you are now only a few competitive cars behind him.

Chris, meanwhile, frantically looks through his wing mirror to count how many cars lie between yourself and him.

But, then he widens his eyes and has to adjust it in confusion at the infuriating sight of your purple car hightailing it up the road to try and catch him. Already?

This always fucking happens whenever he gets a head start.

He rolls his eyes, stepping on his gas pedal even more to makes his car groan and jerk away on in front once again.

His bandana stays secured onto his head whilst he chews irritably against a fresh toothpick selected from out of his own glove compartment that also contains random junk such as cherry cigarette packets and condoms.

‘Fuckin’ woman’ He spits underneath his breath before aggressively jerking his wheel to the side and rounding another corner perfectly. His car skids and his wheels screech over the asphalt, centimetres away from hitting the curb before he’s straightening his steering wheel up again.

This time though, he can see the finish line in the distance, the small crowd of spectators gathering like little observant ants, watching as his car comes racing towards them from the mist of the city horizon.

However, you come in straight behind him with your engine roaring and your gasoline bubbles popping. Soon, your window reaches his, and you look to your left to see his side profile.

His jaw is clenched with his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows sitting in a glared furrow. His pupils then quickly flit to your car, and you pass each other a challenging look, hate spiralling within your gazes.

And everything is passive between the two of you, that is, until Chris decides to fight dirty.

His lips purse and he yanks his neck to face forward once again, before turning his wheel aggressively. His drifter then swerves near your wheels, nearly knocking you off to the side and sending you skidding into the curb. You frantically have to straighten back up again after only narrowly avoiding the crunch of his front bonnet.

That fucker.

‘HEY!?’

You yell to him with your window down, but he puts his own one up in response, his lips twitching up into a mischievous smile as he tries to tango with you upon the stretch of your own battlefield containing engine oil and concrete road strips.

He goes in for another direct hit, your tyres dangerously close to each other’s as his machinery tries to ram into yours.

Worryingly, you realise that Chris probably isn’t going to stop this dangerous teasing because of his determination to win. So, through your better judgement, you slow yourself and defeatedly allow his cocky red bumper to cut in front of your bonnet.

Chris beats you by a second, his wheels screeching over the pathetic make-shift line drawn in squiggly black graffiti.

You’re practically seething at this point.

After you angrily jerk your steering wheel, your car drifts to the side and it expels hot smoke from the grind it has against your back tyres before coming to a sideways halt.

You put your car in park, take off your seatbelt and speedily open your car door.

As you step out, you see that Chris has also stopped and gotten out himself, his sneakers crunching against the wet tarmac and his leather jacket squeaking whilst he slams his own car door shut behind him.

You clock eyes with each other and immediately find yourself storming up to his victorious figure that yet again leans against his car door suavely.

Whilst making your way over, someone sidles up to him and hands him a thick wad of cash that he stuffs right into his conniving little pockets with a mean smile of his face, aimed directly at you.

As you reach him, you just can’t help yourself, and before you know it you’re knuckling your fists into his leather jacket and yanking him right down to your face. His breath hitches in shock as he sees your lips close enough to claim that you are practically kissing.

Instead of actually kissing him however, you spit out a ‘what the fuck are you playing at?’ with your eyes narrowed and glinting frostily in the city lights.

They travel over his face, scanning him with scepticism whilst little strands of his raven brown hair curl out from the hold of his red bandana, no longer combing the shorter ones back and just letting them freely swish about his eyes in the wind.

‘Listen honey if you want me to pay for any scratches I gave to your paint job no can do, told you that money was mine…-‘ he cheekily retorts, using one of his ridiculously irritating nicknames for you to further worsen your drumming heart beat.

You didn’t realise you had pulled him this close until now.

This makes your nostrils flare with anger and you quickly release him, seemingly in denial of your own feelings as you listening to the way the zips of his leather jacket jingle at the force of your strength.

You scoff, sticking your nose up and further voicing your discontent at him.

‘Chris- you fucking cheated?!’ You shout with a small laugh in disbelief, your arms crossed over your chest as you refer to his illegal drag collision.

‘No proof? Didn’t happen, sweetheart’ he sassily bites back at you, which makes you falter, but your glare only harshens after he immaturely pokes the centre of your chest.

Does this man just make it his mission to piss you off as much as humanly possible?

Both of you maintain tense eye contact, your chest heaving whilst Chris’ eyes subtly flick downwards to soak in the look of your body.

As more coloured drifters cruise past the finish line, the silence gets awkward, awkward enough for you to spontaneously shouts a shaky ‘I want a fucking rematch!’, not really sure what provoked you to voice this random request. Usually, you couldn’t bear to be around Chris for more than 5 seconds at a time.

So why did you all of a sudden have the urge to be alone with him?

The way you look at him prompts Chris to suspect that this request probably isn’t just about having a rematch, that in fact it’s something much deeper… what that is, he doesn’t know yet, but he’s prepared to find out.

Clearing his throat, he slips a box of cherry scented cigarettes from out of his leather jacket whilst looking around wearily. You swallow, and watch him in silence as he puts one into his mouth and flicks on his lighter. Holding it up to the cherry, it sparks, and a small wisp of smoke puffs out from his pursed mouth.

He opens the door of his Nissan once again before sliding inside.

The scent of maraschino cherries diffuses across his ride and melts into the white leather seats as he shuts his door before using his hand to turn on the ignition. Then, he rolls down his window to thankfully still see you standing there expectantly and waiting for an answer.

Chris simply sits back in his seat, watching the wind comb through your hair as sickly sweet cherry flavoured smoke finds its way up into your nose.

‘Well?’ You raise your eyebrows and snap at him, your hip cocking sassily. But even though your exterior front looks confident, your insides panic and your mouth becomes dry at the very much tangible sexual tension within the air.

Chris looks forward for a second, leaving the both of you in silence once again so that you can take in the far away laughs and clinks of beer bottles from the left over straggling gamblers that are now only talking about Chris.

He squints his eyes with his cigarette still in his mouth, deep in thought, before crinkling his nose and sniffing, reaching his hand out to twist the keys of his car in the ignition properly. His car rumbles to life as he takes out his cigarette, resting it in between his two fingertips.

That arm decides to leans itself on the car door as his wrist and hand dangle out of the window.

‘Meet me at Carolina Point at 3am’

He mumbles to you, as if not wanting anyone else to know about this secret little rendezvous before he’s pushing down the handbrake of his car and it’s lunging forward.

He motors away with a singular hand gripping the steering wheel, turning it smoothly and leaving you with the remnants of his car exhaust fumes, his cherry cigarette butts and the smell of his black and white leather jacket.

᧔♡᧓

It’s 3am.

And music quietly hums from your radio as you pull up next to Chris’ parked car, the glittering red paint job a flashy eyesore when matched with the dark background of the skyline.

Carolina point overlooks a section of the city that is well known by racers like him and yourself and so it provides a nice backdrop for the strange meeting that you two are about to have. Chris sits on the bonnet of his car, looking down to the veins of his city before twisting his neck to observe the way you get out of your own car.

A small smile ticks at the side of his lips before he quickly wipes it away and stands up from his bonnet, the machinery creaking and the suspension bouncing upwards after being released from his weight.

‘Surprised you came’ he muses, before spitting the old toothpick from in between his lips into the long grass.

You roll your eyes and meet him halfway, already nervous about being alone with him in such a close proximity, especially after what had already unfolded between you two beforehand.

‘Course I did, you cheated’ you muse spitefully, and stop right in front of his taller frame. But Chris edges a little bit closer after you had come to a halt, which makes your palms sweat.

You try to keep your composure, fully intent on getting on with the business of the rematch you had wanted, until you fail when you physically watch the way Chris’ eyes dilated at the sight of you.

It makes you nervous to see his body react to you in such a way, and that nervousness only gets worse after he intentionally lowers his voice to purr a quiet ‘oh yeah? An’ how are we gonna fix that hm?’. His head tilts and his tone is as smooth as caramel, the tease almost belittling in manner.

Your chest expands with a stuttering deep breath, the smell of cherries tart on his tongue and overwhelming as the scent stains his jacket too.

Your heart quickens in pace the closer Chris’ head gets to yours, but you don’t move back, even though every siren in your body imaginable screams that this is so terribly fucking wrong.

You blink up at him, almost forgetting why you’re supposed to be here before dumbly stuttering ‘b-by having a rematch…’.

Chris looks at you so hungrily… so primally, and you hardly even get the time to finish your sentence before your mouth is being engulfed by his. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, and neither do you.

His lips are soft and buttery as they rub against yours, your whole entire body stiff and your eyes wide, before you ever so slowly melt into his embrace.

Chris utters a quiet whimper of content and the noise almost makes you squeeze your thighs together. You didn’t even realise Chris was capable of making a noise like that.

Your lips smack together after Chris pulls away, saliva wetting the moist pink skin.

You’re trapped within a daze, utterly stunned and drunk on the taste of his mouth. Chris’ eyelashes feather, and he bites his lip in nervousness, testing the waters of what he’s just done to you. But you look as though you’re absolutely enamoured by it and so he grins in satisfaction.

He goes back again, this time more aggressively, to suck and pull on your lips, and you freely let him, not a single thought behind your eyes apart from the way his teeth pull on your flesh.

‘I- I want a rematch’

Chris pulls away just once for you to voice this timid defiance, however his only thought is concerned with how deliciously red and juicy your lips look. He acknowledges you only by dipping back in and pressing another soft kiss to your peachy pillows, humming a little ‘mhm’ in agreement but also not really listening to you as his face twists and his nose brushes against yours.

The wet sound of his lips sucking your plumper ones into his mouth makes your panties dampen.

‘What if I wanna make it up to you in some other way?’ He daringly mumbles against your lips which wets the skin even around them with his saliva. The arch of your back is subtle, but it’s still fully there as you weight up the pros and cons of this situation. But really… are there any cons aside from the afterthought of knowing that you let your sworn enemy touch your body in the most intimate of places?

At the present, it seems like such a small price to pay within the delusion of your lust. And Chris’ hands already feel just so magical when their big impressions carve their way down your waistline, sliding over the bumps of your hips.

Fuck they’re huge in comparison to yours. And that thought alone makes you wet, your folds becoming even slicker at the motion of Chris using his hands to force you up against the hard side of his car.

The metal and glass behind your back makes you shiver and the machinery is freezing cold in the already frosted mountainous air of Carolina point.

This cold suddenly brings you clarity, and for a second you have to fully stop and pull away from his intoxicating tongue, just so you can voice a stupid ‘wait- what are we doing…?’.

Your mind goes reeling and your eyes look like saucers when remembering just who you are kissing… and who is pushing you up against his car.

Your chest heaves and your voice sounds fully strangled, the vision of making out with Chris plaguing your mind and turning it rotten.

But Chris only gazes at you, understanding how weird this must feel, because it feels weird to him too. However he can’t help it, one taste was enough for him and now he’s hooked.

He pushes back into you with haste, his thick hips greedily pinning you to the side of his car as he groans an ‘ugh- fuck it, who even cares anymore?’.

It’s almost like he’s jointly voicing this to his own self control, because he then allows himself to messily paw at the side of his vehicle, frantically looking for the door handle to his back seat whilst fully enthralling himself within your kissing lips.

Your tongues twist, and it’s messy, but you love it just the same. Especially after feeling Chris beneath his baggy black jeans, thick and throbbing for you when he moans in approval at the touch of the door handle.

He curls his fingers into it and yanks it open, the suctioning sound of the door making your heart gallop tenfold because of the connotations that come with Chris forcefully pushing you into the backseat of his car.

Are you two really about to do this? What even happened to get you to this stage?

It all seems like such a blur now, the spontaneity of your actions helping to numb the idea of regret. An idea that you know you’re defintely going to feel in the morning.

But not tonight… tonight is about wandering hands and careless affections, between two people who just so happen to supposedly ‘hate’ each other.

He grabs you with a growled laugh of ‘c’mere’, his large palms splaying underneath your thighs as he hoists you into his arms and walks you around the sharp edges of his red door.

Practically throwing you inside, he’s eager to clamber in himself and restart his torturous decent of your luscious neck skin.

So he does, and he slams the door behind him whilst doing so.

Meanwhile, you spread your legs to let him into you, your ass sinking into the plush white leather of his seats as your back comes to rest against the opposite side door.

Now you’re seeing a completely different Chris, that hovers over you and gives you that toe curling gaze he’s perfected over the many months of first competing with you.

The gaze is reminiscent of the first time you two ever raced together, with a hint of attraction and chemistry there, until you started to hate each other as soon as it became more of a competition to see which one was better.

This Chris is so astronomically different in comparison to the one you had grown to absolutely despise, the two of you stuck in this viciously competitive cycle of building up tension after tension until all of it just burst and ended up with Chris’ head right in between your legs.

He yanks off every single article of clothing wrapped around your lower half, trying to resist the urge of snapping open your underwear and making a mess of the delicate red lace as soon as he sees it.

Fuck. You’re even wearing his racing colours.

‘These for me?’ He teases and raises his eyebrows whilst simultaneously slipping off your panties and lifting them to the side of his face.

Without knowing any better, you smirk and nod, guessing that it’ll drive his narcissism absolutely crazy. And you’re right. Because soon after, he scrunches up the soaked panties into his fist and throws them up to the front of the car. They messily then land on the dashboard.

He smirks down at your shining red cunt, wet stickiness practically drooling from out of your hole already.

‘Imma drive with your panties on the dashboard all the way home so that anyone who seems them will know how good I fucked this pretty little pussy…’

You swallow a pant at his crude language, not being able to help the shake of your hands or the blink of your eyes. ‘Do it… for me?’ You coquettishly breathe back, and it only drives Chris up the wall further. With this being said, he obeys and darts his head down to your centre, wasting no time in peppering small suctioned kisses against your inner thighs.

They quiver as soon as his face gets closer to your centre, and you know he’s just about to put his tongue on you because he smirks, gearing up to say another filthy thing.

‘M’sorry I cheated baby’ he pouts boyishly, before giving your clit an open-mouthed kiss.

You whine and buck your hips up into the firm hold of his rough hands, that have slid around to force you down and keep you from squirming away at his stimulation. ‘Forgive me?’ He speaks with his head tilted. Then a thick globule of spit comes tumbling from his mouth to plink onto your throbbing heat.

It greedily rolls down your pinkness and Chris goes in for another heavy kiss, this time closing his eyes to eat you like his life depended on it, licking around you clit and even dipping himself into your hole. He’s not sure when he’ll next get the chance to fuck you like this and so savours it with as much fever as he possibly can.

All the while, you lie with your back propped up against the opposite door, looking down at him with your calves smoothly slung around his shoulders.

You hypnotically watch how your thighs twitch at every opportunity Chris gives you, his tongue rolling over several pleasure points in an effort to get you to come.

‘Mmm-okay’ you moan before bitting your hand and mumbling through your teeth ‘I forgive you, please- please just let me cum’.

He had been savouring this for a while now, leisurely dipping his tongue in and out of you whenever he felt like it as he pressed his other palm over the thick bulge in his jeans, trying to suppress its ache by kneading it downwards and squeezing himself.

He struggles not to openly thrust his hips into his hand at the tiny whimpers you make, because you sound so pretty trying to reach your high.

He sighs before giving you one last rolling kiss. ‘I guess that’s only fair, alright I’ll let you cum sweetheart’.

Straight after he says this you let out a heaved ‘Jesus Christ!’, your cry brandishing tears within your eyes as one of Chris’ long fingers unexpectedly slide right up into your throbbing cunt, your precome already acting as natural lubricant to coat his skin.

It’s almost mouthwatering how good it feels, for both you and Chris. His finger seems to fit in there perfectly, and so he adds another, stroking your walls and curling them upwards delicately.

‘Can you fit three in there baby…? Please let me put three in… you look pretty when you’re drooling for my fingers’ he whines, his voice high pitched and begging for you to allow him the pleasure of three.

‘Fuck- yes, please, please put three in. I can handle it!’ You moan in desperation, not really knowing what to do with your hands, so one feeds itself into his luscious brown locks whilst the other one curls around the white leather headrest of the back seat you’re sitting on.

You white knuckle it when Chris effortlessly coos ‘there’s a good girl… gonna make you feel so good’ whilst inserting his third finger, its length making your back arch and the windows of the car fog up.

‘Look at you… fucking up the back of my car, needy girl’ Chris muses whilst observing the way some of your wetness leaks out and blobs onto his nice white leather seats, the condensation of your horny breath staining the windows and your hand practically clawing at his headrest whilst his fingers work inside of you.

‘S-shut up. You wreck the outside of my car, I’ll wreck the inside of yours’ you bite back sassily, your whole entire chin tipping back in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm clawing beneath the lining of your gut.

Chris’ fingers speed their pace at this, and the squelch of them working past your screaming orgasm nearly makes him cum all over himself within his pants, especially after hearing your continuous moan at the motion his harsh fingertip thrusts.

After you calm, you careen forward to grip onto the wrist of his hand, tapping out immediately in overstimulation. He pulls his sopping wet fingers from out of your core and then lollipops them into his mouth.

As you sit there and regain your breath, your cheeks redden impossibly further at Chris’ quipped demand of ‘take off your top’, still with his fingers bitten in between his teeth.

You do as he says, watching him pull his hand back out of his mouth with hooded eyes as you peel off the tight fabric.

He doesn’t even have to tell you to take off your bra either, you just do it, giving him the gorgeous sight of your tits resting on your chest.

‘This good enough for you?’ you tease, letting one of the straps from your bra slide down your pointer finger before tossing it next to your already discarded panties that sit upon his dashboard.

Chris blinks at your devilish action in shock, before putting a smirk back onto his handsome face.

‘Oh I am going to fuckin’ destroy you’ he cackles playfully, before curling his hands around the backs of your thighs and pulling your body to lay down horizontally.

You gulp as you tilt your chin upwards, watching the way he pulls his jeans and his underwear down with his gleaming cock springing up to hit his lower abdomen.

Licking your lips, you have to squeeze your thighs together at the sight of it as he then turns towards you and advances forward, with his lower half bare and his racer jacket and black t-shirt still in tact over his top half.

His pulsing cock stands on end, and he bites his bottom lip whilst clambering over your thighs to get to your stomach, much to your utter confusion.

That is, until you realise why he asked you to take your top off in the first place.

Planting his knees on either side of your underarms, they sink into his plush leather as he towers over you, grinning at your heaving chest. From his height advantage, he gathers a jewel of spit into his mouth and tips his head forward, allowing it to ooze outwards and splash against the valley in between your tits.

You swallow at this, watching as he then shuffles downwards and leans the head of his dripping prick onto the puddle of saliva he had created.

‘Push your pretty tits together sugar’.

Now when using this nickname, it sounds sickly sweet instead of full of malice, coated with a thin layer of cherry sauce as his cheeky grin perfectly mirrors the cheeky action of him using his hands to help you squeeze the sides of your tits together.

Your skin feels sticky with Chris’ spit and Chris lets out the ungodliest of groans when pushing his tip forcefully into the crack between them.

You hiss in pain at the feeling of Chris’ cock wedged against your tits, but bite your lip and ignore it in favour of watching the way he fucks his hips into them.

His pink head disappears in and out of the top opening and he has to fall forward and grip his hands onto the door to keep himself steady. He ruts himself faster with the added security and his car begins to shake at the aggressive motion.

He had done the majority of building up his orgasm whilst eating you out, so now all he had to do was finish it off, and what better way to do that than with his cock buried in between your tits?

‘Fuck Chris-’ you mumble with your mouth dropped open and your eyes glued to the way small drips of precum already leak out from his cock onto the flushed skin of your chest.

‘Ugh- I’m… I’m cumming- fuck- open your m-mouth’ Chris moans into the air, squeezing his eyes shut as the elastic band of his orgasm snaps and forces cum to come squirting out of his head, some of the sticky white liquid coating your chest, but the other half of it finding its way into your open mouth.

You wait for Chris to milk himself dry, your tongue still out expectantly, until he sees that you’re wanting permission to swallow it.

To help you, he reaches out one of his tremouring fingertips to gather up the cum smeared over your chin, then he slides them into your mouth.

You suck on them, swallowing all of what he has to give you with a tired but appreciative hum as he looks down at you with glassy eyes of complacency.

What the fuck just happened between you two… and why did he feel like he wanted to do it all over again?

᧔♡᧓

‘You still really not gonna pay for any of the scrapes you gave my car huh?’ You speak up into the awkward silence as Chris shuts the back door of his Nissan, leaving the smell of sex to permeate within his car.

He lights one of his cigarettes and snorts, trudging his way around to the front of his car before yanking the door open, your bra and panties still resting on the dashboard and yourself still very much naked underneath your regular clothes.

‘In your dreams sugar’.

There’s another silence as the two of you just look at each other, not knowing if whether or not you’ll ever see each other in that kind of vulnerable light again.

One thing is for sure though, no one can ever know about what happened here tonight.

Chris looks almost hesitant to go with his face softening and smoke tumbling from out of the red cherry of his cigarette. He blinks to snap himself out of it though.

‘Cya at the next race baby…’

He tips his head and then slides down into his car as you look at him wantonly.

‘Yeah… cya’.

᧔♡᧓

Author’s notes p.2: hot. RIVAL RACERS AND ENEMIES TO LOVERS TROPE OH YEAHHH. This is defintely the longest fucking thing I’ve done so I apologise for that lol. And I’m also equally sorry for the ridiculously long wait omg, I’ve been hyping this up too much so I’m sorry if it’s not that great bc most of it was written on major sleep deprivation haha. Also guysss exciting stuff is happening as I’m almost at 2,000 followers and me and @luv4kozume have got something really fun planned for us both hitting 2k!!

Taglist: @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @stursweet @strniohoeee @strawberrysturniolo @thesturniolos @sturniolosreads @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @ellie-luvsfics @matthemunch @mattsleftnipple03 @robins-scoop @asturniolos @imwetforyourmom @nicksmainbitch @sturnioloenthusiast @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @rootbeerworshiper @chr1sgirl4life @hrt-attack @gigisworldsstuff @stargirlsturniololover @imlidewwallyhittingdagwiddy @sturniololoverr @jahlisa22 @bernardsgf @luvasr @meg-sturniolo @blahbel668 @liz-stxrn @sturnreblog @ratatioulle @isabellehoran @1800chokedathoe @sturnsmadl @sturniolossmut @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattswifey00 @sturniolowhore @skadltmf @sturniolosstar @luvsturns @mattestrella @hearts4chriss @orangeypepsi

[martiniluvr]

IDK if requests are open but i NEED a Jason Todd hc as a dad

Love yaaa

🎧

they absolutely are ESPECIALLY for dad!jason omg… headcanons under the cut 🩷

also my first emoji anon hi ily 🥹

minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

jason todd never thought he’d be a father, but now that he is one, he can’t imagine life any other way.

I know in my heart of hearts he’s a girl dad. just picture it. everything about it makes sense.

she inherits his little white streak, and it’s his favourite thing in the world.

he’s determined to be the father he always wanted needed. he’s loving, affectionate, gentle, and fiercely protective of his little girl. from the first time he holds her as a newborn, he knows he’d kill die for her.

there’s no request he can deny his child. donuts after breakfast? of course, he’ll have one too. flashy cartoons before bed? absolutely. playing hair salon before school? he’s dropping her off with butterfly clips still in his white streak.

one day, you get a call from the school about an incident in class that started with a boy breaking her barbie pencil and ended in a bloody nose.

“my daddy told me it’s okay to punch mean people! he says he does it all the time at work.” oops.

you glare at jason, but he can’t hide the proud smile on his face. you apologise profusely to the teacher, ensuring this will be dealt with. as you leave the school, though, jason takes your daughter’s small hand in his, giving it an encouraging squeeze, and you know you can’t be mad for long.

there will come a day when you both have to contend with the challenges of adolescence—prom, parties, mood swings, driving. jason will have to meet her first boyfriend, and he won’t be able to hide his disapproving scowl.

for now, though, you take in the sight of one of gotham’s most feared vigilantes and the pigtailed little girl tugging at his sleeve. he bends down so she can whisper in his ear, and then turns to look at you with a grin. “I think rainbow ice cream sounds great, doll. whaddya think, ma?”

sigh…dad!jason you live in my heart 🫶

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[i23kazu]

THEY CALL ME FATHER. I ACCEPTED THE TITLE

characters. neuvillette x gn!reader genre. domestic romantic fluff. an. this is me getting to say neuvillette is daddy in an extremely sfw manner. he is melusine daddy i do not make the rules | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

so firstly. the melusines. they are absolute suckers for him. his greatest fans. if neuvillette has 10 fans they are the melusine. if neuvillette has 1 fan it is a melusine. if neuvillette has 0 fans the melusine is dead. if teyvat is against neuvillette, the melusines are against the world. need i explain more

anyways!!! he unofficially adopts them. i think thats just so cute like imagine waking up one day and your husband just goes "im the father of a race of sea creatures who live in a village. we have 300 children btw"

the melusines loooove to help you out around the house! they let u go for work while the older melusines are scrubbing dishes and hanging clothes (BABY MELUSINE CLOTHES!!!!!.) and rearranging neuvillette's hair ties into a little waterproof box

and yes!!! they love to tie neuvillette's hair! granted, they don't do a very good job – the melusines' hands are so, so so small anyways. your husband never dares to tell them that it doesn't look good, or it could be a little looser, he winces – he doesn't want to hurt them. after all, they look so happy to be a part of his morning routine!

they love to give neuvillette different hairstyles. some days it's pigtails, some days it's braids – all simple hairstyles, elevated with rainbow hair ties and seashell pins. the younger melusines love helping with his hair, and they all clamor onto his lap: tippytoed and standing on each other's shoulders. if one of the melusines can't reach his knees, neuvillette lifts them up by their arms and sits them on his lap to help.

and they all crowd around the door when saying goodbye to you and neuvillette for the day! the little melusines excitedly shove snacks, hairties, water pouches (that are melusine sized: they definitely aren't enough for neuvillette) and anything that they can think of that will help you with your day – right into your pockets

a slightly bigger melusine trots out of the house with a water bottle almost the size of her own frame, strapped to her back like a knapsack. she wobbles slightly, looking almost like a toddler playing with adult sized items. it doesn't help that neuvillette is so tall himself. he bends down to unstrap the water bottle and thank the dutiful melusine for helping him carry it. you swear that the melusine's eyes light up!

when coming home from work, the melusines excitedly count down the minutes until you and neuvillette arrives home, right on schedule. they greet him with a cheery "surprise!" as he opens the front door, greeted with the sight of his melusine children holding up a messily painted banner with the words "welcome home papa and (gender neutral parent term)!". he chuckles to himself, assuming that they weren't tall enough to tack the banner onto the wall. it's a cute surprise, anyways.

neuvillette also keeps a calendar of his children's birthdays!!! every week there's at least two birthdays going on so. he makes sure to have a little gift and cake prepared. a lot of the melusines like to go up to him and hint at it being their birthdays soon ("papa!! dyou know what day it is next week?? do you??!!") and he loves being playful with them and teasing them in return ("hm... is it tuesday?"), watching as the little melusine pouts. he gently hints at a present coming for their birthday soon, and the little sweetheart just beams.

reblogs w/ tags & comments appreciated !!!

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki (send ask to be added to taglist)

[paperbackribs]

tags: steddie, nsfw, the homoeroticism of knowing you could treat them better

🥵🍆💦

"Okay," Robin smirks at Eddie as she pops the open button on the microwave in Steve’s kitchen, "But you understand how pathetically gay you sound right now, yes?" She pulls out a fragrant paper bag of popcorn; she says that she likes to have an extra bag before retiring after one of their movie nights.

Eddie scowls, forgetting that Steve's in the next room as he becomes revved up over a pet peeve that is less pet and more a wild animal, "It's not gay to appreciate a work of art." He gestures wildly, the lights above catch on his heavy silver rings, "It's not gay to understand that a sweet, beautiful boy is tragically unloved."

Robin snorts, pulling open the edges of the paper bag, releasing a plume of buttery steam, "No, pretty sure that's pretty gay. Next thing I know you'll declare 'no homo' while sucking his dick."

"I'd suck his dick better than Brittany or Betta or Betsy or whatever her name was," Eddie declares, sore at the memory of Steve's broken brow as he'd explained that his latest date had ridden his face and then gave him a pat on his shoulder, explaining that it was a nice time but not to expect a callback.

What an idiot, Eddie fumes to himself, neglecting to notice the shifting shadows in the hallway behind him; who doesn't enjoy a man who vehemently and vocally declares his love for going down on his partners? Eddie would kill for a partner willing to suck him dry.

Eddie may have blamed the deficiency on the female of the species, but Steve had allowed Eddie in the inner sanctum a few months ago: letting him know that it wasn’t only Robin and Eddie who were vehement friends of Dorothy, even if it was only Steve who enjoyed the full spectrum of the rainbow. And while B-whatever-her-name-was may be the source of Eddie’s ire right now, he knows that Steve has had likewise lousy luck with men whenever they’d ventured for their weekend nights out to Indy.

Each and every time Eddie had to endure Steve’s sad face a week or two later as he’d admitted that he thought his night’s partner may be up for more than just a brief bit of fun. And each and every time he’s been left dumbfounded because—

Eddie pulls at his hair, trying to work it out because—

Well. He can only imagine that every single person that’s walked away from Steve’s beautiful lips couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a fucking canon with the intelligence left over in their little pea brains. Because Steve Harrington is a goddamn catch and every one of them has let him escape their grasp.

Eddie’s too busy scowling down at his Reeboks to see Robin look over his shoulder and softly laugh. She scoops a handful of popcorn into her mouth as she swiftly leaves the kitchen, calling out, “I’m claiming the spare bedroom tonight—the one at the far end—see ya.”

Eddie looks up at the last minute, wondering at her sudden exit.

The air shifts again but Eddie doesn’t realise it until Steve’s right behind him. "Her name was Bella," Seve says in a low caress, close enough that his warm breath rustles Eddie's loose curls.

He stops, frozen, the touch of Steve's words making Eddie ache for something that he's wanted for such a very long time even as he’s unwilling to allow himself to think that Steve could mean anything by leaning in so close. But he can’t help but shiver, a tiny movement that brings his lips against Steve's sharp jaw, nearly stuttering, "Who?"

Strong arms wrap around him, bringing the broad planes of Steve’s chest against Eddie’s back, blunt fingers coming up to grip his jaw, directing Eddie’s lips to just under Steve’s.

Eddie freezes again in desperation, every single fantasy converging at once to break his brain and body while he tries to understand that the arms, hands and fingers wrapped around him are not an invention of a daydream.

"I’m saying,” Steve says patiently, eyeing Eddie with a dark gaze over his firm grip, "That I want you. Not Brittany or Betta or Betsy."

Eddie swallows around the knot in his throat.

"Just you," Steve repeats, a steady weight holding down his words that has Eddie’s gaze flying up to meet the hard pressure of hazel eyes bearing down on him. A force that has Eddie’s heart knocking heavily against his ribs, his breath shuddering against his frame, pressing taut and bullying against the thin of Eddie’s skin as he meets Steve’s expectant gaze.

And suddenly Eddie is angry.

Furious.

He’s had to endure weeks and months of listening to Steve be sad. Listening to Steve tell of glum exploits where women and men haven’t appreciated his freely-given love. Where it hadn’t mattered how quickly and devotedly Steve would put himself forward, that his partner would pat him on the back and distance him or herself after.

Eddie is furious and he glares at Steve’s beautiful hazel eyes, so close to his own and suddenly wide at the clear fury in Eddie’s eyes. Steve stumbles back, “What…” But Eddie lowers himself decisively, knees falling to the ground with a clear thump and thighs spreading as he knows with a deep conviction that he’s finally interpreting Steve’s actions correctly.

He looks up with dark eyes and presses into the tentative hand that falls against Eddie’s nape; Steve’s brows pull together, doubt drawing at them, “Eddie…”

Eddie glares up at Steve with all the strength of emotion running through him like the swift currents of a river. “No Steve, that’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He determinedly wraps his fingers around the zipper of Steve’s Levi’s and, as Steve chokes out his name again, Eddie glares up at him, daring Steve to take his prize away. “No, I’m done. You’ve given me permission now. You’ve given me a sliver of hope, and you’re not fucking taking it away.”

Eddie swiftly draws down the zipper, pulling down denim and soft cotton until Steve’s already hard cock bobs in front of him and he reaches forward quickly, hand already at its base and mouth open as he’s about to swallow him down but Steve’s hand buries itself in Eddie’s curls, gripping him tight.

“Do you want me?” Steve breathes and Eddie somehow finds it in himself to glower deeper, scowling up at Steve while refusing to speak. Inching forward until the tip of Steve’s cock hovers over Eddie’s open mouth. Steve curses and a heavy pearl of fluid drops from the tip to Eddie’s outstretched tongue. Eyes closing in contentment, he hears Steve choke as Eddie almost hums around the welcome flavour.

“Right,” Steve rasps roughly before pushing forward to rest against Eddie’s lips, he traces the heavy beads from his weeping slit against the petals of his mouth, breath running ragged before pressing further.

Eddie gasps, stretching his lips wide and pushing in and forward to embrace the cock intruding his mouth. His lashes flutter as he finally has the heavy weight of Steve’s cock resting on his tongue, stretching his mouth obscenely open before peering up to check where Steve’s at.

He needn’t have worried because Steve’s own mouth is hanging open with eyes darkly trained on Eddie. “So fucking pretty,” Steve gasps, gripping Eddie’s head to pull him closer. Choking Eddie as he moans, “Yes, fucking, yes, baby. Take it.” And Eddie does. Gratefully. Happily. Fucking swallows and devours and pistons back and forward until the bitter musk dripping from Steve’s dick is greedily consumed, taken within.

Steve cries out, throbbing powerfully and pouring into Eddie. Spilling and overflowing, fucking against his face until beads flood and stream out of his mouth. Eddie lets out a long, guttural and broken sound, grateful for the blessing that Steve fills him with.

He’s so consumed with the feel of Steve in him, surrounding him, that he barely registers the hardness in his own black denim until Steve drops to his knees too, meeting Eddie face to face before falling forward, fingers working his zipper open and mouth swallowing him whole.

Eddie gasps at the sudden sensation of the hot welcoming cavern of Steve’s mouth. He bucks, lightning shooting up his spine and overwhelmed at the attention as he thrusts once, twice and another before shuddering as he releases into Steve’s warm embrace.

Gasping, Eddie’s head falls forward to stare down at Steve in wonderment. In clear awe as he stares down at the beautiful boy in his lap. Mind blissed but still a niggle worries at the back of his mind, enough to have his hand reaching forward to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek and bringing him up to meet Eddie.

“Sweetheart,” the endearment drops from Eddie’s mouth without his permission.

Steve’s lips tug up, spreading in a grin and widening his eyes, “You want me, don’t you?” He asks, almost breathless.

“Yes. Fucking yes.” Eddie has nothing but honesty to his name at this point.

Steve smiles. Smug and fucking so proud of himself. He leans forward, “Then take me,” he whispers.

And Eddie does.

❤️ More steddie here

[wandasaura]

— THE QUIET GAME

summary — nobody can beat wanda at her own game, but that doesn’t stop you from trying, and roping natasha into your little game much to her amusement

warnings — dom!wanda maximoff, flirting, dom/sub undertones, semi-public sex (nobody’s around), nipple play, finger sucking, face slapping (once), thigh grinding, fingering (r receiving), degrading, praise, slight begging, edging, aftercare, implied past relationship with natasha, smut minors/men dni

♥️⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰💌꒱ ♡ ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Wanda was livid, you could tell from across the room, the dim overhead lighting just bright enough to create a million little rainbows reflecting off the sequins of her skimpy black dress and the kink in her jaw as she grinded her teeth together. It was rare to see your girlfriend so dressed up and out of her element — usually sporting a more masculine appearance in various shades of red — but tonight was a special night, and she always strived to outdo the company.

She became the most beautiful woman in the room the second you opened the double doors upon your arrival, hand and hand, standing shoulder to shoulder, both dressed to stun in dresses that left little to the imagination. She’d had no reservations about your scanty red dress, but her sage eyes had been hungry and dark with lust since the initial glance she stole of your put together look before you left the apartment. You’re her most prized possession and all of your friends know it, some more inclined to tease the hardened witch about her soft spot for you then others, but that didn’t quell her insistence to make your relationship known to every stranger who attended; proud to show off what was only hers. Throughout the night, she’d kept a hand on your your hip, whispering into the shell of your ear knowing how it looked and how it made your legs quiver. Throughout the night, she’d been working you up to the point of no return.

When you separated after too many cocktails and not nearly enough fancy horderves to keep up with your alcohol intake that left your cheeks flush and palms sweaty (not by any choice of your own or hers, merely Tony’s elaborate plan to trap his billionaire friends into donating to the Potts Project) your attention had been solely on her and memorizing the way that the light shaped to her sinful body, cleavage glistening and full for anyone to gawk at. And they did. You’d caught a handful of guests ogling the deep neckline of her dress too many times to remain unbothered and composed, and while you knew the only one she was even looking at beneath the yellow toned lighting was you, the offered drinks and fleeting touches to her waist from arrogant men that thought they could get a piece of what was yours, sparked a fire of jealousy you didn’t want to ignore.

It was no secret that these events led to some of the best sex you had in your relationship, a result of spending the long hours of the night too enraptured with each other's bodies to pay soft touches and patience any mind when you finally had the chance to come undone beneath one another, but tonight was different. Tonight you couldn’t play by her rules and watch from a distance as she floated around and socialized, no, tonight you’d play the long game of getting so beneath her skin she wouldn’t be able to wait until you returned home for a piece of you.

That jealousy was what ended you up in such a flirtatious exchange with Natasha, the redheaded widow painfully aware of yours and Wanda’s relationship (she’d walked in on you too many times to deem them all accidents), but she was more than happy to play along with your game, finding sadistic entertainment in the not-so-subtle expressions your otherwise unshakable girlfriend sent her way. With a possessive grip on your hip, chest flush against yours, nose only one accidental stumble away from yours, Natasha was playing with fire, and you were malleable to her every move. Your history with her was only an advantage in this situation as you stole glances at Wanda from across the room, not surprised to find that she was watching you intensely, clutching the stem of her wine glass so tight her knuckles had turned white, lips pursed into a thin line and when you caught her eye, you dared to smile innocently. When Natasha’s calloused thumb brushed against your bottom lip to draw your attention back to her, Wanda’s final straw snapped, and the redhead teasing your body with sensual touches merely chuckled darkly at the approaching footsteps of your possessive girlfriend.

You didn’t break eye contact with Natasha even when you felt the warmth of her body press against yours, her wine glass having been shoved into some poor unsuspecting waiter's chest during her pursuit. “Let’s go.” Her words were cynical, heavy even, but you’d only just started having fun, and Natasha wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

The redhead pulled you closer, so close that you could smell the mojito on her breath, creating space between you and Wanda who hadn’t been quick enough to grab the other side of your waist when she had the chance. “Look who finally has the time for me.” You joked with Natasha, running a wandering hand down the front of her chest where the buttons of her suit jacket revealed milky skin. She was always so pale, even in the summertime, but the deep color of her suit complimented her complexion nicely, and sharpened the deep green of her eyes and redness of her freshly dyed curls. She’d been blonde only three days prior, but her changing appearance wasn’t anything new at this point. Twirling a strand between your fingers, you bit into your bottom lip. “You have time for me, don’t you, Natty?”

“Always, detka.” The redhead smirked, leaning her forehead against yours, bold enough to slide her hands down your waist and grab at your barely covered ass. Wanda seethed behind you, green eyes flashing red as she glared at your best friend and grabbed your wrist before you could go exploring Natasha’s body again. You had the audacity to giggle when she started pulling you away and toward the exit, wiggling your fingers at the widow who sent you a knowing wink, stumbling over to Maria who had watched the entire scene play out behind a bottle of beer, lips upturned in a smirk. You’d get an earful tomorrow afternoon when you returned to the office, but for now, the only thing you cared about was getting your girlfriend undressed and beneath your touch.

“Hi.” You grinned sweetly, voice dripping with lust as you peered up at her clenched jawline and flared nostrils. She was pissed, and a pissed off Wanda was exactly the woman you needed tonight. Her hand was still tight around your wrist, grabbing at you not hard enough to hurt, but giving you no other choice but to follow after her as she dodged guests and furniture.

You’d never been to this specific venue, Tony preferring to host these events in the compound where the only liability was a broken vase that he didn’t really care about anyway, but still, she maneuvered you both through the building like she’d mapped it all out, footsteps only slowing when she had you confined to a single use bathroom down the hall from the main ballroom. In seconds your back was flush against the door, breath knocked from your lungs as you peered up at her with blown out pupils and a hungry smirk.

She didn’t give you the time to make a sarcastic comment, you’d made enough of them already if she had any say in it, but you would never complain about the feverish way she leant in to kiss you, and how her tongue tasted like your favorite cocktail as it brushed against yours. You fought for dominance as your teeth clashed together and your tongues danced to explore the others mouth, fighting to be the lead, but it was no surprise that she won. A heavy moan filled the echoey bathroom when her body warm pressed into yours, leaving you helpless to her assault that you truthfully didn’t really mind. You kissed her back just as aggressively, hands finding their way into her loose locks that fell down her shoulders in simple and natural waves, and you tugged on it in a desperate plea for something more. Anything more.

She chuckled darkly when she pulled away, bringing her decorated fingers toward your face. Her rings sparkled beneath the automatic lights, silver jewelry complimenting her midnight black dress. In any other setting, you would’ve told her she looked beautiful, but you were desperate to reach a high only she could give you, and she seemed to be taking her sweet time in working you up. Just like Natasha had, her calloused thumb brushed across your swollen and wet bottom lip, collecting the wetness that had gathered from your kiss before she forced it into your mouth. The digit felt heavy on your tongue, but not unfamiliar, and without hesitation you began to suck, eyelids fluttering closed at the warm feeling the sheer dominance of the action sent through your body and straight to your already sopping core. You could feel your arousal soaking through your panties, thighs wet and pressed together as you sought out any kind of relief. Wanda gazed at you with stars in her eyes, but her delicacy didn’t last long before she was forcing your legs apart with her thigh, pressing right up into your needy core. The pressure on your clit felt heavenly, your hips grinding to find the right friction without her permission.

She didn’t stop you, letting you hump her leg like a needy slut, instead focusing her attention on the way you hollowed out your lips around her thumb and kitten licked around her ring, eyes pinched shut as your breathing became heavier. “You think you’re so funny.” She sneered, using her pointer finger to tilt your head upward, revealing your unmarked neck. She’d change that. Her red lips didn’t waste a second, and her teeth weren’t gentle as she nipped and licked at your sensitive skin, working her way up toward the shell of your ear where you were the most reactive. You shuddered violently when she licked a bold strip up the side of your neck, blowing out cold air that made goosebumps prick the skin of your arms. Your grinding only became sloppier as your clit pulsates with need, pathetic whines vibrating her thumb and fueling her actions. “You think you can let Natasha touch what’s mine. Think I don’t know what you’re doing. I know everything, malyshka. I know what makes you moan,” She bit down on your earlobe, tugging at it gently with her teeth, and unable to help yourself, you arched into her chest, moaning desperately.

“I know what makes you whine,” The hand that wasn’t occupied snaked between your bodies, and sought out your barely hidden nipples, pebbled from the cold and your turned on state. Your whines were music to her ears as she tugged and twisted at your sensitive buds overtop of the thin dress, not bothering to shove it out of the way like you wanted. Your nipples were always so sensitive, it was one of Wanda’s favorite ways to work you up to a quick orgasm when you didn’t have the time to be fooling around, but that wasn’t her intention tonight. Just like you’d decided to do, she was playing the long game.

“I know what makes you gasp,” Her thumb made an obnoxiously loud sound as she pulled it from the warm confines of your mouth, but before you had time to process the loss, her palm was colliding with your cheek and the sting on your flushed skin replaced the weight of her heavy digit. You gasped, just like she expected you to, peering at her with wide eyes and an entirely fucked out expression despite not actually being touched yet. Her thigh was saturated in your arousal, the scent thick in the air but it couldn’t be blamed on only you. Her own panties, black like the color of her dress because she was ever the meticulous woman, we’re so drenched they stuck to her folds, but her attention was on you right now, because clearly that’s all you wanted, and who was she to deny you anymore?

“What? Did you just need me to pay you attention? Is that it?” She cooed mockingly, pulling her thigh away from your core just as you found the perfect rhythm, disrupting your climbing high before you could fall over the edge into bliss. You whined pathetically, hips frantically searching for her again. “Are you such a desperate little slut you couldn’t get through one evening without needing this little pussy fucked?” You gasped when her hand cupped your mound, skilled fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties and toying at your sensitive clit. “You spent the last hour mouthing off to Natasha, when you could’ve just told me what you needed.”

“P-Please.” You stumbled over your words, breathy moans like music to her ears as she sank two fingers into your willing hole, feeling just how worked up you’d gotten yourself since arriving. You squeezed at her fingers, walls fluttering with desperation as her thumb set a brutal pace on your clit, entirely to soft and slow to bring you to where you wanted to be.

Attempting to take matters into your own hands, you pushed on her fingers that worked at scissoring you open, caressing your velvety walls like she was trying to study you. “Oh no, you don’t get to rush me now. You lost that privilege the second you let her touch what belongs to me.” Wanda’s other hand held your hips flush against the door you were pinned against, keeping her pace slow and torturous and entirely unsatisfying. “We’re gonna play a little game.”

“N-No.” You shook your head frantically, your hands scratching at her exposed shoulders, trying to wrestle them down her arms to free her breasts that had been taunting you all night. Even in her aggression, she still looked beautiful, and you cursed the tight fabric of her dress for holding her in so perfectly. “Wanda please, p-please.” You moaned loudly when her fingers found that perfect spot inside of you, pressing into it teasingly, before they were pulled away. She let them slip past your lips, filling your mouth with the taste of your own juices that glistened on her palm and smeared against your chin.

“Unless you want someone to hear how desperate you sound, you’re going to stay quiet. The second you make a noise I stop, do you understand me?” She pulled her fingers out of your mouth, satisfied with how you’d cleaned them off only for her to get them dirty again. You nodded frantically, desperate to have her back where you needed her most. Your walls fluttered around nothing, that deep ache in your belly nearly unbearable as you’d been left right on the edge twice already. “Good girl. What do you say if you need a break?”

Your heart melted at the tender care she showed, a crack in her facade as she let the both of you exist in a single gentle moment of care and respect. She may be rough when she’s pissed, she may slap you around and drag out your pleasure for her own amusement, but she made sure that you knew you were really the one in charge during these exchanges. The second you asked her to stop, she would. But you trusted her enough to never go there. “Yellow. Red if I want you to stop, I know Wands. I trust you, just please touch me.”

She smirked sadistically, letting her hands roam your body filthily. You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress the moan that threatened to escape when she pulled at the neckline of your dress and revealed your sensitive nipples to the cold air abruptly. Her hot fingers were skilled in many ways, and still slightly damp from your mouth, they moved over your skin easily, tugging and pinching at your nipples with a practiced perfection. She knew exactly what you liked and what made you go crazy, and she was using every skill in the book to get you to break. When her mouth found your left breast, kissing all over the warm and silky skin that she’d spent twenty minutes fondling before you’d even left for the event, you almost broke. Your knees weakened, your belly quivered with need as she kissed and sucked at every inch of skin beside where you really wanted her. When her lips finally encased your erect bud, a wave of relief crashed over you, but was replaced in seconds by an unmet desire. Her teeth bit ar your nipple, tugging until you didn’t think you could take it anymore, but she knew what you could take, and before you could tap at her shoulder, she was letting go and soothing the ache with her skilled tongue. A shaky breath escaped your lips before you could help it, and immediately she was letting go of you completely, leaving you to stand by yourself against the door.

“What did I say?” Her green eyes that were black with lust glared at you, her words sounding so far away as you arched away from the door and tried to persuade her to come back.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please. Please Wands, just touch me.” Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, head spinning as you pined for touch. The long game had definitely come back to bite you in the ass, nobody fucked with Wanda Maximoff and won, but you were too drunk on her touch to care about how you’d walked yourself into this.

“You make another sound and we’re going back out there until the end of the night.” She laid out her ultimatum, words slurring together with the faintest hint of her accent coming out to play as she admired your frantic stare and flushed cheeks, looking absolutely ravenous as you anticipated her touch. You nodded frantically, desperate to win her over, although you both knew she was going to resume either way. Natasha could only work you up so much, but she was the one who made you come undone with the lightest touch, and that was enough to motivate her into continuing.

This time when her fingers returned to your core, she wasn’t as gentle, thumb heavy on your clit as her fingers teased around your entrance, not daring to fill you up how you wanted without making you earn it. She pulled at the waistband of your thong until it snapped, flimsy purple fabric falling down your sweaty thigh to be forgotten about on the tile floor, and finally without the tight barrier that only gave her so much room to work in the way, she set an unforgiving pace that had your head spinning and thighs shaking as she reached the deepest part of your pussy with ease and talent that Natasha never had during all of your hookups. The wet noises that came from your center should’ve been embarrassing, but you couldn’t think about how anybody that happened passed by the door could definitely hear them, focused solely on the way her palm slapped against your clit at just the right pressure and pace, her breath tickling your lips as she leaned in close and rested her forehead against yours. Your hands reached out for her, desperate to have something to ground yourself to as you felt the spring in your core begin to tighten immensely. Her red hair was tousled and frizzy from your desperate pulling, and it only got messier as one of your hands tangled into it again.

Wanda didn’t deny you, grabbing the hand that wasn’t in her hair, and holding it against her chest as she worked you through your orgasm, smiling sweetly as your chest rose and fell in quick succession, bottom lip bitten and flush from both the alcohol and your high. “You can make noise, it’s okay. Let me hear you, it’s just us. It’s just us, malyshka.” Her gentle eyes flashed red, strong tendrils of magic encasing the room im her own makeshift sound barrier. The noise from the party quieted down, leaving only the sounds of your intimacy to be heard. With her permission to moan, you did just that, whining and gasping as you rode out your orgasm on her fingers, hips stuttering to both find a steady pace and pull away from the overstimulating sensations shooting down your spine.

When she pulled her hand away, fingers dripping in your juices, your cheeks flushed, only growing darker when she let them sink past her cherry red lips and weigh heavy on her tongue. She moaned at your taste, eyes twinkling as she made sure you were looking straight at her. When she was satisfied, she leaned in for a kiss, gentle and endearing as she let you work out whatever you needed, pulling back the reins of her dominance for the time being at least. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you looked up at her glassy green eyes.

“I love you, Wanda Maximoff.” You giggled, pecking her lips that your arousal clung to. The taste of yourself wasn’t something unfamiliar at this point in your relationship, but it never failed to make your belly tighten with gratitude that after everything in life, you found your way to her.

“I love you more.” She leaned up to peck your nose, smiling goofily. “We should invite Natasha over again.”

You laughed loudly at the suggestion, remembering the last time the redhead ended up in your bed when you were still living at the compound. She’d limped around for hours afterward, glaring daggers at Wanda from across the room every time she went to sit down.

“You know, she’s equally as guilty as I am.” Your eyes sparkled with mischief, a teasing smirk on your lips as you thought about the unstoppable Black Widow being forced to her knees by your giggly girlfriend.

“Watch it, or I’ll let her spank you with the paddle next time.” Wanda quipped, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to her lips, where her gaze lingered for a few seconds before looking back at you. “Maria’s going to be all over you tomorrow.”

“I guess I’ll just have to have something to brag about then.” You smirked, leading her out of the bathroom and out into the cold of winter. Your breath floated through the air as Wanda wrapped her arms around you, long coats forgotten about as you began to trek toward the car, eager to get home and help her reach her own high.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[Always By Your Side] (TF141*Reader)

you can decide which TF141 men he is, but I imagine he’s Ghost (I’m truly sorry Simon). A short drabble you can read when u are sitting on the toilet for 1 minute/j.

word count: 414

He’s not good at this, but after you leave, He starts folding the origami stars just like you.

His hands are big, clumsy, the paper slips out of his hands tons of times, but he searches the tutorial, redoing it again and again.

The first few stars aren’t good, crooked edges, uneven portions, unlike yours you gave him.

He doesn’t give up, carefully folding the stars, and they become better each time he finishes one.

The stars start to make into a pile. He puts them into a glass jar just like how you stored them.

“It’s beautiful, right? watching different colors cluster together, just like the rainbow.”

He recalls the memory whilst doing another star.

The times he’s not training, supervising or on missions, he locks himself in his quarter, creating those little stars that he used to sit beside you, looking at his phone while you fixated on making them.

Finally, he watches the jar being filled with the stars, mostly your favorite color, and he puts his jar beside the one you gifted him.

- - - - - -

“Paper stars?” He hears the clerk mumbles when she is scanning the barcode on the paper strips for checkout.

“Oh, it’s just rare to see someone making these nowadays.” She sees him blink at her with confusion. “years ago young girls love to make them, there’s a saying that if you fold 1000 stars, the wish you wrote inside will come true.”

The words after that fly over his mind, he rushes back to his car, tapping at the steering wheel when all he can think about now is—

You said you were making 1000 stars before.

He stumbles back to his quarter, doesn’t care about the recruits’ curious eyes as he shuts the door behind him, taking your jar and opening it.

Every star was obviously made with patience, shaped in a perfect pentagon, that’s why he never dared to touch them, afraid of ruining them.

but this time, he picks one up with trembling fingers, and slowly unfolds the purple star.

“I hope I can live long enough, staying by his side until we both become old, if I don’t, I hope these stars can help me protect him.”

He stares at the words neatly written on the inner of the paper, and tries to focus on the handwriting, but all he can do is just letting his vision become blurry, choke back a sob as he grasps the star and slumps to the floor.

Not killing Reader in my fics: mission impossible

[dcxdpdabbles]

Based on this post here https://www.tumblr.com/ourrechte-blog/740959709140484096

Danny and the latest incarnation of the Demons ends up in Star City. They're doing ninja stuff as a way to get resources and find a way home. Green Arrow overhears mentions of "Great One" and "Demon's Head" and maybe Dani is there and gets called dahlia and it's misheard as Talia

Ollie: Batman, come over here and get your de-aged villains

Bruce: What makes you so sure they're mine?

Ollie: They're ninjas and their leader, who kicked my ass, is referred to as "Great One" so yes, I'm sure these are the League of Assassins under an alias. Or clones

Ra's finds this entire thing hilarious. Damian, not so much

Oliver is not having a good time. He noticed some shady activity going down in his city's underbelly and decided to investigate. Star City wasn't as crime-infested as Gotham, but it wasn't sunshine and rainbows either.

It was far better hidden, but corruption ran amok in his home, so he had to run around to get things fair. He noticed the ninjas only after a while of them being in town. At first, they seemed focused on gaining territory.

They moved from the poorest neighborhoods to the richest, slowly beating out the top dogs. It seemed the leader had the same mentality of prison- beat the toughest person on his first day and become the new number one. Usually, that wouldn't work with such solid and old operations, but somehow, the ninjas were doing it.

They cut off resources. It causes discord in the lackey's ranks. Pulled funding from who knows where. And Blackmailed the rest into submission.

It was a hostile takeover. A plague on the control of the criminal empires station in Star City.

And there was nothing Oliver could do to stop them. He felt like a fumbling medic during a pandemic. Too many areas were affected before he could arrive, and too many loose ends were tied before he could gather enough information to know what they were trying to accomplish.

He contacted the Justice League when it became clear that it was too much for his team to handle. They sent over Dinah Lace and Gregory Sanders (Much to the joy of his bi-heart), who helped him trace the pathway the ninjas were taking, but ultimately, they were unable to catch up.

"It's like chasing ghosts," Gregory complains, his red bandana moving with his mouth. His eyes are scanning the towering buildings, fiddling with his guns. "I see them for only a second, and they are much faster than any of my bullets."

"It doesn't help that one of them is a meta with a similar power to mine," Dinah agrees. She was the closest to the taller figure, attempting to use her Canary Cry to capture him. Imagine her surprise when the figure turned and returned a cry of its own, easily overpowering Dinah's and flinging her away. "We might need a Speedster"

"And a Bat," Olver sighs. "They're far too slippery. A Bat should be able to devise a plan that might work for them. My tactical strategies are falling short."

"How painful was that for you to admit?" Dinah asks with a smirk.

"I'm choking on my blood," He deadpans, causing her to laugh. At once, Olover's heart launches in his chest. She has the loveliest laugh. He throws her a smile that he knows is disgustingly gooey, and her eyes crinkle with the gentleness she reserves for him.

"I overheard them speaking for a bit before one of them heard my guns click," Gregory says, eyeing the two of them like he knows they are flirting but won't point it out. He's a spoilsport. "One of them identified the other. Does the name Talia mean anything to ya'll?"

Crude. Whatever good mood Olvier was in for making Dinah smile is crushed with sudden dread.

"Yeah, it does. Especially if it was anywhere near the words "Demon Head" or "Great One," He wearily. At Gregory's nod, he covers his eyes with one hand, feeling a headache build behind his right eye. It's a familiar headache. It usually pops up whenever Bruce Wayne's love life is mentioned.

"I'll call the Big Bad Bat. He'll get her to stop or kiss her. Whatever works. " Oliver sighs, even heavier than before.

"Why?" Gregory asks mystified

"That's Bat's ex."

There is a very long pause before Gregory's guns click again. A rigid set to his shoulders and rage appear in his eyes. "The young girl is Batman's ex? Good to know."

"Young girl? No, Talia is about my age." Dinah cuts in. "Are you sure she answered to Talia?"

The safety is switched back on as Gregory relaxes."Yes. She appeared to be twelve years old or so, with white hair and green eyes. Does that match Batman's honey?"

"Not even close. I mean, the green eyes, sure, but the rest is wrong." Oliver hums. "So we aren't dealing with Bat's girl, which is good for us. The League of Assassins is a pain. Also very dangerous."

Vigilante's eyes widen at the mention of the ninja group's name. "I heard of the organization but was unaware of the members. Is this Talia important in it?"

"She's the big boss's daughter," Dinah confirms. "Also, one of the bloodthirsty and cruelest members."

"That's not very nice," a young voice cuts in, startling the heroes. They leap away from the roof edge, watching a boy with glowing white hair flout over it, crossed-armed. "My daughter is a goddam delight."

"Ra's," Olver shutters. Yes, he looks younger and glowing, but Oliver would never forget that monster's face. He appeared often in his nightmares about the island.

The boy tilted his head. "You know me."

Oliver pulled the string of his bow, training the arrow on the figure; beside him, Gregory had his guns up and ready while Dinah had planted her feet in her preferred combat position. "I never forget a face."

"There is a version of me here," the boy hums, implying so many things that make the three heroes uneasy. "Maybe I wasted time gathering resources when I should have gone looking for the other Fentons."

"What do you mean by that?" Dinah demands, but the boy is already looking away and snapping his fingers.

"Guys! There are other Fentons here!"

Five figures fly up from over a building. Two are glowing, and three are wearing bulky power suits. Oliver's breath catches in his throat. Younger versions of the Demons. The same assisans whose abilities build Ra's empire and are the only ones to control them- the reason he is known as the Demon Head.

"That's great, Danny!" A girl with orange hair cries. She's inside the power suit, and Oliver knows her by her codename. Claw.

"Maybe we can have your dad make us some fudge." A dark-skinned boy licks his lips. He also appropriates a power suit but seems far more decked out for support. Makes sense, seeing as he obviously Scales.

"Let's go. The faster we get home, the faster I can make Vlad by me an island." A glowing teen rolls his eyes. His flaming hair does nothing to take away the fact he is Fang.

"Which way?" the little girl, Talia, asks, making a small circle in the air.

"I saw we find destruction and follow that. It's bound to lead us to them. We can cause chaos on the way." The last girl offers. She points the hand of her supersuit to the west with a nasty grin. It's Shadow. "Can't be worse than the Black Plague incident."

"How was I supposed to know the rats were dangerous!" Ra scoffs, face red in embarrassment. Which would have been amusing if he didn't just admit he caused thousands of lives to end. Oliver really does not like the implications one bit.

"Everyone. Don't you read any history books?"

"I don't need no books to tell me. I was there!"

Oliver thinks they are distracted enough to risk taking a shot. His bowstring snaps into place as his arrow flies towards the closest one. Claw's reaction time is as fast as he remembers because she had already shot the arrow out of the sky before it could go anywhere near Talia. The foam meant to hold her in place burst, covering the six from view.

Gegory's bullets hit it seconds after, burying deep within the hardened foam. The sharpshooter springs to the right, looking for a better target, but it's in vain.

When the foam falls, everyone behind it is gone, and Oliver is reminded that they face ninjas. Gregory lowers his weapon with a frustrated click of his tongue.

What in the world was going on! They were all de-age and somehow powered up. None of this was good.

"We need to call Batman," Dinah says in the silence. "This may be out of our league even with them turned into children."

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

TEACH ME | TRAVIS KELCE

a/n: I've had an idea for a mini serie, so you'll most definetly be seeing multiple parts to this story. I love the relationship and the love between Baby Wy and Uncle Travy 🥹 Enjoy and let me know what you think.

Warnings: Nothing really, this one is kind of a slow burn with a first encounter.

Words: 1.247 (Not proofread)

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Reader

TEACH ME | TRAVIS KELCE

Early in the morning, as the sun began to paint the sky in soft pastels, you stood at the threshold of your preschool classroom. You unlocked the door and stepped into your vibrant kingdom of colors and toys. The walls were adorned with the artwork of your little kids. Bright finger paintings and carefully crafted collages that told stories only a child imagination could conceive. 

As the children began to trickle in, their faces lit up with excitement at the sight of you. Each one received a warm hug and a cheerful greeting, setting the tone for a day filled with love and learning.

‘’Guess what, Miss Y/N!’’ little Wyatt exclaimed, eyes wide with wonder. ‘’It’s my birthday this weekend.’’

Your eyes sparkled with delight. ‘’Already? Soon enough you’ll be older than me.’’ You said as she laughed loudly before running up to play with her friends.

The classroom buzzed with activity as children explored different stations. Your colleague and best friend Camille joined you with a warm smile. ‘’Good morning, girl! Are we still on for tonight?’’ 

‘’Of course, I’ll make a reservation at that little Italian place we both love.’’ You smiled. ‘’Good idea, I’ll see you later.’’

Later, during circle time, you read a story about a brave little turtle. The children sat in rapt attention, their eyes wide with anticipation.

"Who can tell me what the turtle did to be so brave?" you asked, your eyes scanning the eager faces.

Lily's hand shot up, her eyes shining. "He helped his friends cross the river!"

"That's right, Lily! Helping friends is an act of bravery," you affirmed, your heart swelling with pride.

As the day drew to a close, parents arrived one by one to collect their sleepy but contented little ones. You greeted each family with a warm smile, sharing stories of the day's adventures and highlighting each child's achievements.

‘’Uncle Travy!’’ Wyatt exclaimed as she ran into the arms of a tall and muscular man.  Standing at an impressive 6 feet 5 inches, his frame radiated an aura of power and confidence. His piercing eyes sparkled, and he smiled widely at his niece as he picked her up.

‘’Hi baby girl! Did you have a nice day?’’

‘’It was the best. We painted rainbow unicorns, and we had a dance party with Miss Y/N, it was so fun.’’ She smiled up at her uncle as he stroked her back gently. 

‘’How come I wasn’t invited?’’ he replied, pouting as he faked being hurt. The little girl laughed loudly ‘’You’re too old to be in my class Uncle Travy.’’ His eyes finally landed on you, greeting you nicely before putting Wyatt down. 

‘’Sounds like Wyatt’s found her happy place here.’’ He said, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed. ‘’I’m Travis by the way’’ he said extending his hand for you to shake. 

As you guys chatted, you couldn't help but notice the friendly banter and easy rapport you shared with him. He exuded a warmth that put you at ease, and his genuine interest in Wyatt’s day was evident.

As you stood by Wyatt’s cubby, preparing her belongings, Travis’s conversation took a subtly flirtatious turn. "You know, Miss Y/N, I've heard that being a preschool teacher takes a special kind of person. Someone patient, kind, and full of love."

You felt a gentle blush rise to your cheeks, flattered by his words. "Well, it's definitely a labor of love. The children bring so much joy into my life."

His gaze held yours, his eyes sincere. "It's clear how much you care about them. Wyatt adores you. "

Before you could respond, she ran up to her uncle, her face beaming with excitement. "Uncle Travy, can Miss Y/N come to my birthday party this weekend?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. ‘’Of course, baby girl, that is, only if Miss Y/N wants to and is available.’’ He said, looking at you with his piercing stare. You turned to Travis, your heart full. "I'd be honored." You chuckled lightly at the little girl’s reaction.

You got interrupted by the light sound of heels clicking on the floor, Camille heading your way.

‘’Hey, you’re ready to go?’’ she asked you before acknowledging Travis, giving him a smile and a nod which he returned before staring back at you. 

‘’Well, we’ll leave you to it, we have plan on our own don’t we baby Wy?’’ he said stroking his niece’s hair as she nodded excitedly. ‘’I guess I’ll see you this weekend then.’’ The smile on both your faces were genuine. He thanked you before walking away hand in hand with his niece. You couldn't deny the flutter of attraction you felt, but you also knew the importance of professionalism.

Camille cleared her throat, nudging you with her elbow as she smirked at you. ‘’What was that about?’’ you blushed at her question before walking away from her laughing.

In a cozy corner of the Italian restaurant, you both sat huddled together, your face animated with excitement. Camille leaned in, her warm brown eyes filled with curiosity. ‘’Tell me everything, Y/N. What’s he like?’’

Your eyes danced with a mixture of adoration and wonder. ‘’Well you saw him, he’s tall, like really tall, and he’s funny, we joked around a little bit and he made me laugh. And he’s got these beautiful piercing eyes that I swear, they were seeing right through me.’’

Camille leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. ‘’Sounds like he’s got you smitten, you sound like me.’’ You laughed, she was right. You were pretty lowkey about personal relationships and you never were one to imagine scenarios so early on. 

After your breakup with Christopher, your ex-fiancé, you kept a lot to yourself. You had made the decision to call off the wedding as well as the relationship when you found out that he had cheated on you with one of his colleagues at a work party. He had tried to work things out, begging you to stay and telling you how sorry he was, that it was a drunken mistake, but being you, you couldn’t walk past it. Camille welcomed you for a few weeks before you found your own place. You hadn’t dated anyone ever since, giving the excuse that you didn’t have time with your work, but deep down you just knew you were scared of getting hurt again. 

‘’I don’t know, he was just different. The love he has for Wyatt made me melt, and he was so nice and respectful. They invited me to her birthday party this weekend’’ You shrugged your shoulder, blushing lightly as Camille reached out and gently squeezed your hand. ‘’You better go, girl. Don’t let an opportunity of getting to know the guy slip away.’’

‘’I don’t know, maybe he was just being polite by inviting me.’’ You said as you sipped on your glass of wine. ‘’Come on Y/N.’’ your friend exclaimed. ‘’Did you see the way he was looking at you, his eyes were glued to you. You’re going to go to that party and you’re going to have fun. Just be yourself and if it clicks it clicks.’’

You looked into Camille’s eyes, your heart filled with gratitude. ‘’Thank you, Camille. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’’

You continued to talk and laugh as you felt a newfound sense of confidence and excitement about Travis and seeing him at Wyatt’s birthday party. 

To Be Continued

Part 2

[jonathansthickthighs]

Yandere! Fushiguro Toji x Reader: Part Four

Description: You have a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Trigger Warnings: nsfw, yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, AFAB reader, toxic behavior, threats, jealousy, possessive behavior, desperate toji, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), daddy kink, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s), soft toji, toji has feelings, slight sub toji?

A/N: part five will the last one of this mini series. enjoy! :)

Not edited!

You sat by the window, as a deluge of thoughts flooded your mind. Absently, your fingers traced the delicate contours of the pearl necklace gifted to you by your boyfriend the evening before.

You had been dating for two months now and you couldn’t deny this was the pinnacle of emotional fulfillment you had ever experienced with a man. He treated you like no other, he was so soft and gentle with you, you never imagined a man being this good to you. His gestures of affection unfailingly making you swoon, gifting you flowers weekly, getting you whichever snacks you were craving, taking you new places, even buying expensive gifts like the one you had around your neck. You weren’t aware he could even afford such artifacts, ignorant to the fact that bounty hunters were so well off.

It had been a great couple of months, but you had to admit to yourself that you were terrified. You were scared of how things might turn out in the future. The subject of marriage and children has arisen in discussion with Toji several times, leaving you unsure of where you stood on your own desires. You hadn’t known each other long enough and up until now, your relationship may be all flowers and rainbows, but that didn’t guarantee your expectations would still be met in the future. After all, only two months have passed since you met Toji.

You weren’t against marriage at your age, but children, on the other hand, were a touchy subject to you. You wanted to enjoy your 20s to their fullest and you were aware that a child, while being a blessing, would also intake an enormous sense of responsibility that you weren’t ready for at this age. Toji had quite a few years on you and his desire for a family was evident. He had expressed his desire to having children before turning forty, leaving you around four more years to enjoy your stress free, youthful life.

You were broken out of your mental battle when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“You’ve been lost in thought an awful lot today, sweetheart. You’re not thinking about leaving me are you?” Toji joked as he nuzzled his face into your sensitive neck, eliciting a cascade of giggles from your lips.

“Of course not, Toji. I’d be a fool to throw away a cock like yours.” You quipped back, pivoting to encircle your arm around his shoulders in a tender embrace.

“Oh, so you’re just using me for my body? I’m hurt, baby.” Toji chuckled, closing the space between you as he pressed his lips to yours. He moved his lips against yours vigorously, squeezing your waist against his, rutting his hardening, clothed cock against your stomach. You immediately responded, kissing him with the same enthusiasm. You ran your hands through his narrow waist down to his bottom, giving him a playful squeeze, forcing a giggle out of him.

You cracked your eyes open, peaking at the clock on the wall behind Toji. As realization dawned, your eyes widened as you noticed the time, prompting you to swiftly detangle yourself from Toji’s embrace. “Shit, babe. I promised the girls I would meet them half an hour ago. I gotta go!” You exclaimed, making Toji tense up. As you began to depart, you were stopped by his firm grip on your arm, drawing you back against his chest.

“Come on, doll. Just a quicky, you’re already late anyways.” He insisted, trying to seem nonchalant about the situation. In reality, Toji fucking detested when you went out with your friends. The thought of men approaching you, trying to flirt with you, offering to pay for your drinks made him lose his mind. Hell, the mere thought of other men looking at you was enough to drive him over the edge. His darkest thoughts were screaming to lock you up in a place were he could be the only one to look at you; the only way those thoughts dissipated was with the image of you recoiling in horror at him. The thought made his chest tighten, your hatred was something he would never be able to live with.

Despite the infrequency of your meetups with your friends, his desire to wanting you all to himself was insatiable. Never had he imagined himself yearning so fervently for a woman’s attention; it had always been the other way around, but for you, he was willing to beg on his knees for an ounce of your attention.

“As much as I want to, I’ve already ditched my friends too many times to be with you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You answered apologetically pressing a kiss on his cheek. Toji tried to mask his disappointment, but this time he wasn’t as good at hiding his expression.

“Please, sweetheart. I want you so bad, can’t you feel it?” Toji begged with frustration evident in his voice, grabbing your hand to place it on top of his raging bulge. He began using your hand to rub himself, grunting at the pleasurable sensations you were bringing him with just your hand. “Please…” He pleaded weakly, desperation lacing his voice.

You groaned, feeling defeated as your panties started to dampened at the sight. You were quick to attach your lips into his parted ones, tongues fighting each other as you continued teasing his cock over his sweatpants. You separated your lips from his causing him to whine at the loss of your soft lips.

Once you decided you had teased his cock enough, you tugged his waistband down, freeing his aching cock. You bit your lip as you tentatively stroked his cock in slow motions, gaining a hiss from him. Running you thumb over the reddened tip, you gathered the oozing precum, spreading it over the rest of his shaft. You wanted him, badly.

“Tell me what you want, Toji.” You whispered, peppering open mouthed kissed all over his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to respond as he started thrusting his hips into your hand. Having you jerk him off with your hands was something else, he couldn’t have done it better himself. Your hands were so much softer than his, the velvety skin of your hand wrapping around him could almost make him finish then and there. “Answer me, Toji.” You demanded, squeezing his cock enough to catch his attention.

“I n-need to f-fuck you, sweetheart.” Toji managed to utter out.

Smirking, you responded. “Then beg for it.”

Toji groaned, throwing his head back as your painfully slow stroking continued. He would never admit it, but having you be this demanding was a huge turn on to him. Believing submission was characteristic of women only, he never let himself experience anything remotely close. All his life he had been the one in control, never letting his guard down for any woman. You unveiled facets of him he never imagined existed.

“Please. I n-need to feel your pussy!” Toji beseeched impatiently and you rewarded him with a radiant smile. You released his cock from your grip, guiding him towards the bed. Pushing him on the bed, you began to undress slowly, pulling the straps from you dress down to reveal your tits to him.

You grabbed your breasts, massaging them and playing with your nipples, putting on a show for Toji. He gawked at you lustfully as he reached for his cock to stroke himself as he watched you. Playfully, you slapped his hand away. “I didn’t give you permission to do that, you pervert.” You retorted, giving him a sly smile.

Toji’s mouth was agape in disbelief, bewildered at this side of you. “I am not a pervert, sweetheart!” He exclaimed, failing to suppress his laugh.

You giggled before responding. “Oh yeah? You’re stroking your cock to this defenseless girl standing in front of you. Does that not make you a pervert?”

“Well that defenseless girl is touching herself like a slut in front of me. I’m pretty sure she wants me to jerk off to her.” He replied, starting to tug on his cock once again.

You bit your lip, enjoying the way his gaze felt on you. “I think you might be right this time.” You admitted as you decided to finish undressing for him. It was impossible for Toji to get tired of looking at your delectable body. He could easily make himself come by merely admiring your nudity.

Once all your clothes were discarded, you climbed on top of him. Settling yourself on top of his shaft, you moaned at the contact your sensitive clit made with his cock. You began grinding your heat on his cock, making him groan. You were so wet for him, you couldn’t wait any longer to have him inside you.

“You want me to ride your cock, daddy?” You suggested seductively as you continued teasing the both of you.

“Fuck. Yes, baby, please.” He nodded, eager to feel your tight, warm snatch engulf him in its delightful glory.

You wasted no time grabbing his cock, pressing him against your wet entrance before lowering yourself carefully onto him, making the two of you moan. You still weren’t accustomed to his size, so you needed some time before you could move comfortably. Continuing to lower yourself until he was fully sheathed inside your heat, you placed your hands on his chest for support. Toji grabbed the fat your ass as he threw his head back onto the bed. He was certain he would never tire of this feeling, your pussy was simply made for him.

“Pussy’s s’good, baby.” Toji slurred, relishing how tightly your cunt wrapped around him. The sight of you riding his hard cock was breathtaking. He noticed you it had gotten comfortable once you started slowly moving. You rose your hips until only his tip was remaining before lowering yourself onto him to a halt, making him grunt at the sudden piquancy he felt. After that you proceeded to ride his cock in swift, steady motions, stroking his cock with your dripping pussy. He couldn’t help himself from feeling hypnotized by your stunning form as you rode him. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth agape as your tits bounced with each stroke. The sight was was orgasmic.

“Your cock is so deep inside me, Toji!” The sweet moans and screams leaving your lips were like music to his ears. The way you said his name turned him on to the extent he would do absolutely anything to hear it come out of your mouth.

He groaned as you worked his cock, sliding his hands up from your bum, making his way through your waist until he finally reached your breasts. He kneaded them thoroughly, making you let out a moan. You sped up your pace, the squelching noise of your thrusts meeting, filling the room. Toji leaned forward taking one of your perky nipple into his warm mouth, suckling like he was starved.

You whimpered at the stimulation you were feeling, as Toji gave your other nipple the same treatment. Continuing to jump on his cock like a madwoman, you could feel your orgasm approaching. When Toji felt your walls starting to tighten around him he grabbed a hold of your waist, holding you still before he started thrusting his generous cock into your sopping heat.

“Oh my— fuck! I’m gonna come all over your cock, Toji!” You cried out, feeling your pussy clench around his pulsing cock.

“T-that’s it, sweetheart. Use me. M-make yourself come with my cock. Let me hear you.” Toji uttered out shakily as he continued to stimulate your sensitive nipples, grunting into them. The prominent noise in the room being the sound of the slapping of your skins and your moans and pants of satisfaction.

You moaned loudly when you felt your orgasm arrive. “Yes. Yes. Yes! Toji!” With that, you let it all out, throwing your head back, your dripping pussy clenching deliciously around his cock. His thrusts didn’t seize, continuing to drill your pussy with the need to reach his own release.

He called out your name as he felt his orgasm approaching. “I’m gonna fuckin’ come, sweetheart. Are you gonna take it, baby?” Toji announced as he watched your beautiful face, you were in a daze, your eyes half lidded looking at the man that was causing you such pleasure.

“I want all of it, gimme your cum, T-Toji.” You managed to slur out, using the last of your strength to hold yourself up on his chest. That was all it took for Toji to start thrusting up into your pussy erratically, your clenching pussy making him quiver out his orgasm.

“You’re fucking mine!” Toji growled, throwing his head back as your wet cunt milked his semen out of him, sending it deep into your womb. Get fucking pregnant! His intrusive thoughts made themselves present as his thrust began getting sloppy, his legs trembling in ecstasy.

“A-ah, I love you so much, sweetheart.” Toji stuttered out as he finished releasing inside of you.

Shocked, you looked at a drowsy looking Toji. “Did you just—?”

Toji parted his lips to speak, only to close them once more. Those words escaped him unwittingly, unleashing them from the depths of his pent up emotions, before he could muster the restraint to withhold them. Internally, he was having a battle with himself, trying to make it seem like an accident. He harbored uncertainty about how you would feel about him after only knowing him for two months. He had loved you since before you even knew of his existence and these feelings kept accumulating over time inside him; he couldn’t stand it any longer, so his body reacted for him.

“I love you.” He repeated without breaking eye contact with you. The shock on your face was evident, sending a tremor of apprehension through him. He was terrified of you never loving him back, he dreaded the prospect of your affection remaining beyond his grasp forever.

“I-I love you too, Toji.” Toji’s gaze widened in surprise, his eyes dilated at the unexpected revelation from you. His heart felt like it was going to burst and his cheeks were tinted pink. The happiness he felt surpassed anything he had ever deemed attainable. His mind was on a frenzy, he finally achieved what he wanted most in life. Incredulity washed over him, this must surely be a dream. She loves me back. She loves me back. She loves me back. She loves me.

Toji couldn’t suppress the smile creeping to his face. He didn’t thinking his heart could beat any faster until he watched you smile right back at him before breaking eye contact with him. You could even look at him straight in the eye and your face had gotten an angry shade of red from the mixture of the sex and the confession. Such a shy little thing. Even after two months of knowing each other you were still shy around him. He thought it was lovely.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, sweetheart. I was scared you wouldn’t love me back.” Toji admitted, reaching out to caress your soft cheek. His cock had been inside you through all of this, so he decided to slowly pull it out, making the two of you hiss from the overstimulation.

“I do, Toji. I’m deeply in love with you.” You revealed, leaving Toji astonished and with his heart dancing chaotically in his chest. You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes, enjoying the intimate moment. You never anticipated falling in love agains so soon, yet it unfolded before you as if ordained by faith. You thought meeting Toji was destiny. Climbing off of him, you snuggled to his side.

“Alright, alright, Toji. You’ve once again, managed convinced me to stay home with you.” Home. Toji loved the sound of that. He couldn’t wait to have his own little house with you, he had been taking up extra bounties to be able to afford one. As soon as you accepted his marriage proposal, he would buy a home for just the two of you. Although he was ready to have children with you right now, he knew you weren’t keen on the idea having children at your age. Toji’s not sure if he can honor your wishes, but he would try. Unless the situation called for other means.

Toji looked smug at your comment, fully aware that if you had decided to still go out, he would try to convince you to stay any other way. “You know you love staying in with me.” Toji replied, pulling you tighter into his chest causing you to let out a giggle.

You tried to detangle yourself from him, but his grip on you impeded it.

“I need to use the restroom, stop being clingy.” You quipped with a laugh, making him loosen his grip on you. Toji felt a little hurt. Were you really joking or did you truly think he was clingy? Insecurity flooded his mind as he watched you head to the restroom.

His thoughts were interrupted by some distant vibrations. Toji sat up from the bed to see your phone vibrating in the nightstand. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the caller ID. It was one of your friends, these were the people trying to steal you from him.

“Hey.” He answered coldly, the other line was silent for a second.

“Um, Toji?” The girl asked confused at not being greeted by her best friend as per usual.

“What do you want?” Toji questioned discourteously, not caring about feigning kindness with her this time. He was going to take any means necessary to drive you away from your friends. Your friends were but vermin, unworthy of the mere touch if your presence. Not an ounce of trust did he have for them. The thought of them trying to cloud your mind with doubts about your relationship ignited an indescribable fury within him. These women were going to taint your perception of him and he would not stand for that. Not to mention, most of them were single and he hated the image of them manipulating you into acting like you are as well.

He could tell your friend was taken a back by his bluntness, bewildered by his change in charisma. Every time they had met he always appeared so courteous and seemingly genuine, she did not expect this attitude from your boyfriend. “I-It’s just— we’ve been waiting for over an hour and a half and we got worried. Is she going to make it?”

Toji chuckled darkly before lowering his voice, assuring you didn’t hear him. “Listen here, you stupid bitch. Haven’t you gotten the clue she doesn’t want to see you anymore? She’s always cancelling your little outings and making up excuses to not see you. It’s been two months since you last saw her, get a fucking grip and accept it. She’s not your friend anymore.” He spat out harshly, earning a audible gasp from your friend.

“D-did she really tell you that?” Your friend stuttered in disbelief. It was unbeknownst to her you felt this way. Were you really truly willing to cast aside all these years of friendship? She had known you for so many years, it was hard to believe you felt this way.

Toji hummed in response. “Are you fucking dumb? I’m her boyfriend, she’s obviously going to confide everything in me. I’m just doing her a favor by letting you know, so stop waisting our time and stay out of our lives.” Toji replied, a threatening tone in his voice. Should this endeavor fail, he would be forced to resort to drastic measures, but hopefully the message was unequivocally conveyed. He could hear your friend sniffle on the other line, making him smirk maliciously.

“You asshole! Tell that bitch to never talk to me again!” Your friend sobbed hysterically before hanging up, making Toji chuckle in amusement. He didn’t appreciate the name-calling, but he opted to overlook it, comforted by the knowledge that he would never have to endure her presence ever again.

Toji returned your phone to its originally resting place before reclining back into the bed, allowing the comfort of the mattress to envelop him. He pondered to himself as he heard you starting to run a shower. He bore the weight of knowing that this would impact you deeply and he despised himself for causing you pain in this manner. Yet, he remained resolute, convincing himself it was necessary for the wellbeing of your relationship. How else were you supposed to tend for him and your children if your friends were always stealing your attention?

He observed you emerge from the bathroom, reaching to grab your phone. “I should call them to tell them I’m not going to make it again.” You spoke as you started to unlock you phone. Toji placed his hand on top of your screen and you stood there taken aback.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your friend called while you were in the bathroom and I let them know.” Toji responded with a smile, his gaze tender and affectionate as you reciprocated his smile.

“Thanks, Toji. You’re the sweetest.” You showed your gratitude by pressing a kiss to his cheek. He couldn’t help the guilt that took over him, he knew how much your friends meant to you.

“Shall we shower together?” Toji suggested playfully —attempting to keep his mind off what he had just done— grabbing your phone from your hand and placing it back on the nightstand. His eyes ranked through your still nude form, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue, his cock rising back to life. Yeah, your pretty little body would make him forget in no time. You bit your lip, agreeing as he closed the gap between you, bestowing upon you a fervent kiss filled with longing.

Now that you had Toji you wouldn’t need anybody else.

[buckyalpine]

Barbie

Single dad Bucky x reader

Had this idea that I thought would be cuteeeee; Bucky's little baby seeing a real life Barbie doll for the first time.

Bucky's POV "Daddy lets go!!" Bella's tiny hand tugged on Bucky's much larger one, urging him towards the door, determination written all over her little face, "It'll start soon!"

"Alright peanut, I promise we won't be late" he chuckled, letting his daughter pull him with all her might, not wanting to miss a second of the new Barbie movie. He raised a brow at the strength his four year old had when she got excited. It was all Bella talked about since the first movie trailer came out and ever since, the house was filled with every shade of pink imaginable. Bella had marked the date on the fridge, counting down the days though Bucky decided to wait a few weeks before taking her so the crowd wouldn't be too much for her, wanting her to actually enjoy the movie.

"Ready peanut?" Bucky scooped her up in his arms, carrying her over to the car, adjusting the frilly pink tutu she had on so he could buckle her in the car seat. She had been previously unamused at his lack of outfits that would match Ken but ultimately settled on something much, much better.

"Ready daddy" She nodded, straightening out the matching tiara she had placed in on his head, hardly able to contain her little squeals of excitement, double checking the pink heart magnets she'd stuck on his arm. Bucky pecked her chubby cheek before getting into the drivers seat and pulling out the car, just as excited himself to have a relaxing day with his babygirl.

Your POV

You huffed, smoothing out the front of your dress, hyping yourself up in front of the mirror before slipping on your heels, taking them off and putting them back on again.

Then slipping one off before strapping it back on firmly in place.

There was no reason for you to be nervous.

You looked amazing. There was no doubt there. That shade of pink was radiant against your skin. Not a hair out of place. Your makeup was perfect. Yet your heart wouldn't stop breathing just a smidge too fast. You deserved this. After a long, exhausting week you deserved a day to yourself to just feel good and relaxed. Yet your nerves were lit ablaze while you double checked your lipstick.

You were a grown ass woman, you didn't need to explain yourself to anyone as to why you were seeing this movie alone.

Dressed up in your cutest matching pink outfit.

You could do whatever you wanted...Is what you whispered to yourself before grabbing your purse and making a beeline towards to door before you changed your mind again. You pulled into the parking lot, glad your decided to wait a while to see this movie instead of going on opening night, noting it was a much quieter night, easing some of your nerves.

You went over to the snack counter, browsing the wide selection of candy, grabbing both sour candy and chocolate before joining the line to have your ticket scanned. You glanced down at your outfit once again, smoothing your a hand over your hair before straightening your shoulders.

You deserved this.

Bucky's POV

Bucky's heart swelled at the little clicks his daughters dress up heels made as they made their way up to the snack counter hand in hand; she was a ball of pink and frills with a tiny purse to finish the look off. She stumbled slightly, keeping up with his long strides, eyes wide taking in her surroundings along with the smell of fresh popcorn.

"What do you feel like getting jellybean" Bucky picked her up, letting her scan the rack of candy while he ordered a large popcorn and soda.

"This please daddy?" She pointed to a large swirly rainbow lollypop, waiting patiently when he set her back down making their way towards the ticket line. Her hand was still firmly holding onto his, a gasp slipping past her lips when her eyes landed on the best thing imaginable. Bucky looked up towards the direction his daughter was staring in, curious about the tiny gasp she let out and what had suddenly caught her attention.

The prettiest doll she'd ever seen. But in real life.

She couldn't take her eyes off her pretty pink dress or her matching heels. She was sure her favorite Barbie doll at home had the same shade of lipstick as hers. She clung onto Bucky's leg as they made their way over, tugging at his jeans to get his attention.

"Daddy! It's a Barbie doll" She whispered as he crouched down to her level, "She's so pretty" He could tell by her antsy squirming she wanted to talk to the real life Barbie boll, itching to take off at any moment. Bucky blinked, feeling his heart flutter, brows furrowing at why it was doing that, stop that.

But Bella was right.

She was pretty.

As soon as he saw who his daughter was pointing to, his own mind momentarily stopped working, only noticing her take off when he saw a blur of pink dash away, making a bee line towards the young woman.

Shit.

Your POV

"Hi" A small voice chirped behind you, leaving you confused when you didn't see anyone near by. Until you looked down. You smiled seeing the little girl behind you dressed in all pink, the tiara on her head slightly crooked, a lollypop sticking out of her purse. "You look so pretty"

"Thank you sweetheart" You cooed, gasping when a handsome stranger, clearly her father, grabbed her into his arms, shaking his head. He had a sparkly gold tiara on his head matching hers, flecks of pink glitter dusting his cheeks, some sprinkled onto his fluffy chestnut locks. You couldn't help the smile that spread onto your face when your eyes landed on the many magnets that were stuck onto his arm ranging from pink hearts to rainbows and the Barbie logo.

"Bella" He scooped her up, blowing a raspberry onto her cheek making her giggle, "You can't run off like that babygirl"

"Sorry daddy, wanted to see Barbie" She gave him her best pout, making you laugh, your own cheeks heating up when he looked over at you with a shy smile, matching hers.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

A whole ass DILF.

You shook your head, figuring he probably had a wife or girlfriend, there was no way he was single.

Bucky's POV

"She's really exited" Bucky said apologetically while you both had your tickets scanned, walking towards the same theatre room, butterflies fluttering in his tummy again.

"It's okay, this little princess made my day" You tried to sound light hearted though you were nervous meeting his soft baby blue eyes.

"Can she sit with us?" Bella pipped up before anyone sat own, giving her dad another dose of puppy eyes and a pout before turning to you and giving you the same treatment.

"Oh-uh-" Bucky figured you would've come with friends (maybe even a boyfriend...hopefully not...), though he didn't see anyone around when you were in line earlier. Either way, he was sure you wouldn't want to spend your movie day with a single dad and his very cute, albeit excited little girl. "I don't know baby-

"Actually, it's just me, I-don't mind" you smiled at the way Bella's eyes lit up along with an excited squeak, wiggling out of Bucky's hold to slip her hand into yours, pulling you to the middle of the row.

"Thank you" Bucky gave you a grateful smile, a tiny greedy part of him happy to sit with the sweet stranger his daughter was enamored with.

****

You adored watching the movie with Bella, leaning down whenever she'd whisper something, her hand often holding onto your pinky through most of the movie. You both made your way out of the theatre once the end credits began to roll, feeling a pang of something again when you noticed your cars happened to be parked side by side.

What were the chances-

Stop.

He probably has a partner, you scolded yourself internally while Bella gave you a sleepy hug before Bucky settled her into her car seat and shutting the door softly.

"Hi again" Bucky smiled bashfully, hoping the pink on his cheeks wasn't too obvious as he leaned against his car door, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Why would someone as pretty and kind hearted as you want to go on a date with someone who came with baggage.....but maybe...

"Hi again" You nearly stumbled over your words, your heart hammering while he fidgeted with his phone, chewing his lip before speaking.

"I wanted to say thank you again. For today. I-I hope this isn't too forward but-uh-to say thank you properly-maybe coffee? If you don't like coffee then something else-dinner? Maybe a date-unless you don't want it to be a date-"

"I'd love to" you cut off his nervous rambling while Bucky let out the breath he was holding, giving you his phone for you to add your number in. He waited for you to get into your car, waving as you pulled out before getting into his own car, surprised to find Bella now wide awake with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Will we see Barbie again?" Bella eyed Bucky curiously while Bucky's phone pinged with a text message from you.

Can't wait to see you, keep the tiara on x

Bucky grinned, reaching behind to playfully tickle her foot before smiling at his phone again.

"I think we will"

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐧 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

things aren't the way you planned coming home with your newborn, but you have eddie there to lean on when things get hard (and an unlimited supply of 'munson-style' hugs). requested here. infatuated dad!eddie x mom!reader, 3k.

cw post partum recovery, reader is suffering from some symptoms of post partum depression

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"You're sure you can manage?" Wayne asks, his voice buzzing down the line.

Eddie peers out of the kitchen into the living room quietly. You're sitting on the sofa in a shape that can't be comfortable considering your recent stitches, the baby on your thighs where you've brought them together, your hands delicately posed on either side of his head. 

"I think so," Eddie says, answering Wayne's questions with honesty. "She's feeling a little better today." 

"It's hard, Eds. You take care of her and call me if you need help, okay? I'm proud of you. Both of you." 

It catches Eddie off guard for a moment. He's done enough crying lately, clearing his throat to say, "Thanks, Wayne. Call me tomorrow." 

"You call me, I don't wanna wake anyone if you're sleeping." 

They say their goodbyes. Eddie leans against the kitchen doorway to spy on you and the baby. Babies cry more than he ever could've imagined despite the warnings, but it's quiet, too. There are moments of peacefulness like this one breaking apart the chaos. 

You're whispering something. Eddie stands very still, wishing the dishwasher would magically silence itself. He strains to hear you. 

"I love you," you say. "Sorry I'm tired, honey. I promise I'll be better. You're so beautiful." 

Eddie bites his cheeks, wondering if his family (his family!) aim to make him cry and little else tonight. He gives himself a look in the mirror magnet on the fridge framed by a We Love Michigan border, rainbows and cute elk surrounding something less pretty. His hair is frizzy but that's nothing new, greasy at the top and dry at the bottom. He scrapes it back into a scrappy bun and wipes the oil from his face with his sleeves. He's in dire need of a shower. 

Resigned, he steps out of the kitchen, new socks slippery on old linoleum before finding stability on the crush of carpet in need of a vacuuming in the living room. You look up and bless him with a smile.

You've had a bad case of the baby blues, though the midwife assured him that was normal, and not to worry unless it continued past the first few weeks. 

Well, Eddie will worry. Any depression you experience breaks his heart, no matter the cause, and no matter how temporary it may be. Just 'cos a cut might heal doesn't mean it didn't hurt when you got it. 

"How do you feel?" he asks cautiously. 

You make a face that he knows precedes a lie. "Don't worry about me." 

He sits on the arm to look down at the baby —his baby, his son— in your hold, your face moving immediately to rest on his thigh. 

"I'm okay, teddy," you say.

"How about you?" he asks the baby, taking his hand gently. 

The baby doesn't open his eyes nor answer the question, well and truly asleep. 

"Do you think Charlie was the right name?" you ask, stroking his small face lightly. 

"If we hate it, we can just call him Wayne." 

Eddie's out of this world lucky that you'd liked the name and loved him enough to name the baby after his uncle. Charlie Wayne Munson, born six pounds and two ounces, the smallest baby they saw all week in Hawkins General. 

"He looks more like a Wayne than a Charlie," you say, rubbing your cheek into Eddie's sweatpants. 

"He's so fucking beautiful," Eddie says, getting his hand behind your shoulders. He gives your back a loving rub, up and down the whole stiff length of it. "Would you relax? Or tell me what's wrong? Please?" 

"Nothing's wrong… Look how perfect he is, I'd be a freak to act like something was wrong," you say, the exhale of your words warming his leg. 

Eddie rubs his hand up with a tad more roughness until the cinch between your shoulders has flattened. 

"You're having a biological reaction," Eddie says, leaning down to press his lips to the top of your head. "Don't feel bad about feeling bad, sweetheart. This is a physical thing, that's all it is. You're not a freak for feeling wobbly." 

You relax even more, pad of your thumb swiping Charlie's smooth cheek. 

"Want me to make you feel better?" he asks.

"How?" 

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking we'd make a list. Starting with a hug, quickly followed by something amazing to eat before Wayne wakes up." 

"Charlie," you correct with a small laugh.

"Is there a nickname for Charlie?" Eddie asks. "What are we gonna call him? Lee?"

"We'll think of something," you promise. 

Eddie isn't worried about it. He figures there's at least five years of nickname time to get one that sticks. For now, he has a list to make and things to do, and the first is making sure you're as well as you can be. He starts with the hug, pulling what you want for dinner from you one soft kiss to your temple at a time. Chicken pot pie? Ramen noodles with a fried egg on top? Sesame chicken? Triple cheeseburgers? 

You can't decide. Eddie chooses breakfast for dinner. It won't take long —he can fry the sausage, eggs, turkey bacon and toast in one pan. 

He keeps the door open to watch you, though nothing is actively wrong. You're deflated now rather than tense, petting and fawning over the baby as much as you can without waking him up.  

"Just as handsome as your dad," you say. 

It's a lovely sentiment but Charlie does not approve. He blinks awake, signified by your saccharine, "Hi, baby boy," followed by ten seconds of awe-filled cooing. Eddie's frying some bread in the pan but dinner can wait, he wants to see the baby with his eyes open again. 

By the time Eddie reaches the couch, he's crying. 

You move him carefully into a rock-a-bye hold and shush him. "It's alright," you say. 

"He sounds like you." 

"What?" you ask between shushes, hand tapping a slow and gentle rhythm into Charlie's swaddle. 

"He sounds like you when he cries," Eddie insists. 

Not your pained screams a few days ago nor your heart wrenching tears when you're feeling at your worst, but your hormonal sobbing. Like when you saw the commercial about the new 'shoplifters exposed' program on CBS that featured an old lady who stole a tangerine from the grocery store and got arrested despite her having alzheimers. She didn't mean to, Eddie, why would they make her cry like that? In fairness, it was a very upsetting commercial, but you cried for four hours, and for days afterward your eyes would well with tears and he'd know exactly what you were thinking of. 

"When you're on your period," he explains. "When you know you wouldn't usually cry." 

"You think so?" you ask. 

"I think the solution is the same, too." 

You nod your agreement. "He's hungry." 

You and Eddie feed the baby with varying levels of success. Charlie doesn't wanna latch even though it's a bottle teat, causing some confusion —is he not hungry? Is he cold? No, sweetheart, he's not cold, he's got two blankets and the thermostat's at 68 Fahrenheit. Maybe he needs a new diaper? You check. His diaper's clean. 

You're looking more and more defeated by the second. Eddie sits beside you to give your knee a reassuring squeeze. Babies are hard to look after, but he knows you'll both grow into it. You're exhausted from nine long months and a turbulent half day stint of pushing and crying and turning the bones in his hands into powder, your hormones are going crazy, and you're having a tough time. This won't be your forever feeling (though if it were to last, Eddie would stay at your side through that, too, that's not a question). 

"You know what else works when you're not feeling good?" Eddie asks, offering his arms. He isn't some muscled herculean shape, but when you hand Charlie over, his arms look strong. Capable. Holding Charlie feels just as perfect as holding you. "A Munson-style cuddle," he finishes, trying to speak to his wailing son in that same bubbly parentese you've started talking in. 

Eddie did a lot of talking to your bump while you were pregnant, but he was usually just trying to make you laugh. There were times where he'd lay with his nose against your hip and his arm under the bump, wondering about moments like this. What was the baby going to look like? What colour would his eyes be? What will it feel like to hold the baby in his arms? 

Charlie feels lighter than Eddie first prophesied. Small. He has eyes like yours rather than eyes like his and he couldn't love it more. 

Eddie takes the bottle when you offer it and sandwiches the baby to his chest. He doesn't want to condescend you, doesn't want to shoo you off, but Charlie's crying around the bottle and you look veritably miserably. 

"Do you wanna go and make sure the food isn't on the turn?" he asks. When he realised the baby wasn't going to go down easy again he put your plates on a baking sheet and put the oven on low to keep it warm. 

You hesitate. "Are you okay?" 

"I don't know. I think so, sweetheart. We're barely a room away, alright?" 

He's called you sweetheart more since the birth of your son than ever before, which is insane; Eddie's called you sweetheart likely twice a day since the day you met. That's a whole lot of sweethearts. 

With the baby's changing mood comes a change in the weather. Eddie pats his little back, a quiet thump thump thump, while rain lashes the closed windows. The baby finally decides he's hungry, and the mood turns from frenetic to ambient almost immediately. 

"You make sure you eat if you're hungry!" Eddie calls to you. 

"Are you sure?" 

"I think…" He drifts off, distracted by Charlie's long eyelashes, the way they skim under his eyes and the tiny noises he makes as he suckles. "Aw, baby," he murmurs, "good job. I knew you were hungry. You sounded just like your mom." He can't help grinning. Eddie is really talking to his kid right now, his real life baby. "You made her super emotional, but you're her whole world now. You're mine, too, obviously, but I'm cooler than this." He sighs. "No. I'm not. This is the coolest thing ever." 

"What do you think?" you ask softly. 

Eddie looks up. You're standing at the door, staring at them like they're made of sparkling diamond, every inch precious. 

"Right. I think that we're gonna have to start eating when we can. Wayne never had a baby, but he said I was bad enough as a teenager, and Steve said he's lucky if he gets to eat a hot meal some days." 

"Steve does have three," you say, frowning. "We really can't eat together anymore?" 

You ask like you're less bothered than you are. Like a gimmicky Oh, man. Eddie knows it hides a real worry, and right now he's trying to give you the world on a silver platter, so he dots a little kiss on Charlie's head and says warmly into his skin, "No, that's not true. You're going to be such a good kid, me and mom will be eating together all the time. Isn't that right?" 

Eddie looks at you with his head still tilted down. "I wanna eat together, okay? Everything's changing, but dinner doesn't have to. I just wanted you to eat 'cos you left half of your waffles at breakfast." 

"I can wait." 

"Then let's wait. You wanna come and hold him?" 

"No, he's settled. I don't wanna mess it up again." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, firm and sweet at once. "Sweetheart, come here. You didn't mess up, okay? I'm serious, come and sit with me." 

You hesitate in the way. You're still unsteady on your feet despite the few days you've had to recuperate. Though your hair is cleaner than his it certainly isn't clean, nor are the clothes you've pulled on. Eddie read up and asked around on what would be comfiest for you, debating nightgowns and silk pyjamas at length, but all you've wanted to wear is a hoodie you've had since you were a teenager and a pair of sweatpants with fraying cuffs. He loves it —you look like an adorable dork. 

Your stomach visibly churns. Eddie thinks you might chuck up, is already pulling the baby to his chest to place in the bassinet when you take a short, quiet gasp for air. 

"Sorry, I don't know why I feel so on and off. I know it's just hormones. I promise I feel happy– I feel happy–" You gesture an open palm toward him. "He's gorgeous, Eds, he's everything I wanted and so much more, I just– I just feel like crying and I don't know why," you confess, blinking to suppress tears, shifting your weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Eddie detests seeing you this uneasy, and he swoops in to correct it. 

"Come here," he says again, no hands free to hold out to you. He hopes his voice is inviting enough. 

You shrink into yourself. "I'm being weird." 

"I like when you're weird. I kind of love it. I don't think we'd be in the mess if I didn't love it." 

"It's a mess?" you ask. 

"It's perfect." 

You finally smile, creeping around the bassinet and the needlessly baby proofed coffee table to sit on the edge of the couch with him. Charlie makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

"Hear that? He knows you're here," Eddie murmurs, making room for you hopefully. 

You sidle up to his thigh and lean on his arm, careful not to knock his elbow. You watch Charlie drink his bottle for as long as there's milk left, two ounces knocked back like it's nothing. 

Eddie eases the teat from Charlie's lips carefully. With care but a clumsy imprecise manoeuvre, he lays Charlie down in the bassinet. He has a lot of hair for such a small baby, enough to stroke back from his forehead, soft under Eddie's fingertips. 

"He's really, really beautiful," Eddie says quietly. 

"I know," you say, an anxious hand on your cheek. "I can't believe something as good as him could come from someone like me." 

Eddie stands between your legs, resting a loving hand at the slope of your shoulder. "Why would you ever think something like that?" he asks, his voice as soft as it's ever been, but with a smile in case you don't want to talk about it any more. 

"He's… I'm just not…" 

Eddie gives you time. You've needed it ever since you went into labour, time to piece things together.

"I really thought I was ready," you say, looking up at him with a pinch between your eyebrows.

He brings his hand up to cup your face. You don't lean into it. "Alright, I'm going to talk for a little while, 'n' I know you won't agree with everything I'm saying but I need you to know that this is how I really feel, yeah? Buckle up." Eddie bends down, unafraid of embarrassing himself because it's you. "I know you think these feelings are your fault… that this is some failing, like you're–" He drops his voice to a whisper, "Like you're being a bad mom already, but it's not the truth." 

You startle at being read so easily. "Eds," you mumble. 

"We knew this might be how you felt afterward, the midwife talked and talked about baby blues and you said–" 

"I said I couldn't understand how I'd ever feel sad once he was born," you say, looking at his neck rather than his face. 

"And that's fine, you know? You're not a bad person for thinking it would be perfect and then changing your mind." 

"But he is perfect," you say. 

Eddie rubs your cheek. "He's perfect, but this is hard. Being a new mom with your stitches and your aching tummy and all the gross fluids–" 

You laugh through a groan, pressing your eye into his hand.

He leaps to keep it going. "This isn't how you expected to feel, but that's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. Cry if you feel like crying and don't feel fucking guilty about it, this sucks. You had to do the world's most tumultuous campaign for the last nine months and suddenly you're standing at the start of a new one that takes up, like, a gazillion pages with half health and an equally useless companion." 

Your lips press into a thin line, but your eyes are soft and bright despite their obvious fatigue. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers and push his hand further into your cheek. 

"My dork," you murmur. 

"You understand it, don't you? Makes you an even bigger dork."

You nudge your nose into his palm. "I understand. Thank you, honey." 

Eddie's not done. "You said you don't know how something good like him could come from someone like you? I don't think bad was a possibility." 

Your second thank you is better. The first wasn't inauthentic, but this one sounds as though you genuinely believe him. Eddie bows down into a crouch to wrap his arms around you, the majority of his weight on your shoulders and avoiding your sore lower region, and the entirety of his love pressed to your cheek, a long, mindless kiss. 

"I love you," you say. 

Eddie tucks his head against yours, ignoring his protesting knees. "I love you, too." 

Your food turns to dry mulch by the time you remember it in the oven. You're too distracted by Eddie's hug, his offering for a shoulder massage, and the subsequent second hug that ensues, your back to his chest, dozing in the sanctuary of his arms. Munson-style cuddles are his expertise.

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thank you for reading!