#and B. I wouldn’t have put it in anyways

[sweetest-honeybee]

them having you chill on the side is how they lure you in with a false sense of hope of "it's really not that bad!~" DON'T FALL FOR IT--

but deadass i remember it was like that the first day i was a carhop at sonic, thought it wasn't too bad. literally the next day i had over a 100 separate orders i took out. i worked there for 2 weeks then gave a 2 weeks cause i was too scared to just quite outright LMAO (was my first job at 17)

best of luck to you, and am sending all the good vibes that you get a better opportunity elsewhere!!! 💛🏵

EXACTLY and I fuckin KNOW they’re making it look easier. I’m not quick enough yet to handle a line of people and that’s fine but they haven’t trained me for it yet

The funniest thing is is that so many people quit ALL at he time there and people would keep saying those people who quit were just too lazy and the workload was too hard and blah blah blah

It’s NOT. The “workload” is running around in the same open room or to the kitchen unless you spend your time in the cooler. The main managers just an ass and I have the strongest feeling she’s run out people by being an asshole to them because the second I saw the way she handled me accidentally letting a dude walk out without paying, I knew there and then that I wasn’t gonna be working there long be it that she fired me for the stupidest gd reason or I quit

[methoughtsphantom]

plot bunnies about an idea i don’t have enough motivation juice to write. red hood identity reveal variety

smol jason

So, Red Hood reclutantly working alongside the Bat to take down a child trafficking ring when he is hit with a de-aging spell. It even isn’t the first time Batman encountered the end of this particular spell so he already knows the victim would have no recollection of their memories, so he protects the now child (he guessing 11 estimate age) and guides him through the panic of not being able to take off the Red Hood helmet. the one that canonically has a bomb in it (cause older Jason is a dramatic bitchTM) so like, Batman catches the child’s prying fingers and takes them away from the latches because Hood has implied the existence of a bomb and that’s enough for dread to set in his gut. Bruce gently coaxes the child to let him confirm this with a device he takes out of his belt and raises it eye level to the kid’s head. It beeps. And B feels the ground sweep out under him. Because indeed this child has a bomb to his head. (and he’s suddenly hearing another bomb go off in the distance and a warehouse and —)

anyways, B ends up taking (read kidnapping) this twelve year old to the Batcave so they can pry off the helmet and I can only picture the ANGST because this is Jason and Bruce each unaware of who the other is. Jason still lives in the streets in his mind according to him and well, according to B, he’s dead. So they start bonding, kinda awkwardly at first cuz of the helmet’s voice modulator, but Jay at that age (at any rlly) was a spitfire and like he genuinely makes B forget this is a crime lord for a second (kinda difficult to that when the kid is stuck in the helmet) but whatever. I can only see Jason being his cautious self but kinda being at ends here because he kinda does need Batman’s help to get this thing off him, so he can only, just like narrow his eyes when the Bat approaches him for a blood sample. (“Need to check for magic residue, lad.”)

(Jason’s only allows this because he has a knife he found in the clothes he’d was drowning in earlier)

As u can guess, Bruce was obviously lying and wanted to run the blood sample to see if it matched any from his database (as the Red Hood has also implied that they have met before)

Anyways Bruce just gets the alert that the blood reading was finished almost at the same time they can pry the helmet off, and because he got a little attached, he just wants to see the face of this lively if wary teenager that has the same name as his (dead) son. (he managed to pry it from him earlier, how, i dunno) It’s literally Bruce’s martyr and huge guilt-complex that goes like ‘ah yes let me see the face of a child that was failed so throughly by the people who should’ve taken care of him’. So they pry off the helmet and then Bruce feels like he’s been doused by cold water. it’s like he’s staring at the ghost of his dead son again, the image completed with ruffled hair, slightly upturned lips and blue guarded eyes that look up to him with recognition but not recognition.

Bruce immediately hardens, shuts down any hope he can feel rushing in and desperately tries to close the dam and let his confusion and rage turn into anguish. “Who are you?”

The boy—the imposter quickly tracks the 180 demeanor change and immediately goes defensive. A painfully familiar scowl appears in his face.

“I’m Jason, I already told you that, what, your old age catching up to you?”

Batman stalks closer and then the boy’s taking two steps back for every one the Bat takes. He tracks the loose outline of a hand closing in tightly around the hilt of a knife in the boy wearing his son’s face and he can only think how dare he.

“Lies! You’re not my son! Who are you?”

Heart in throat, Jason struggles to keep distance between him and the towering black shadow that’s so angry he can sense it in his very bones. He doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t.

“I-I my name’s Jason. Jason Todd. My father is Willis Todd, not—not, Batman.”

And there’s that for the little snippet. Sorry this is so disjointed😭. After that’s just the mental image of Dick cutting in with Zatanna trailing closely behind him and being all “Hey I got your message about a de-aging spell and—“ and just stopping at the scene.

Because that’s Batman towering over a clearly scared kid. Said kid using the distraction to try and stab Batman. The action clearly enraging Batman—that doesn’t make any sense?! B would never— Dick immediately sprints into action and steps in between the two.

like Dick just giving his back to the kid and not seeing. Batman clearly shaking his head in denial and snarling, treating the kid like his crime lord self and Dick not understanding. Having to receive help from Zatanna to get the kid the hell out of here (but like where would they even take him? The manor??)

Zatanna just takes them to the other side of the cave and takes note of the teenager. How he has a dead grip on a red helmet and his gaze is stuck upon it.

Meanwhile Dick has to physically restrain Batman from going after the kid and he raises his voice just enough to demand what the hell is happening?? Why is there a kid in the Batcave? …Batman??? Report. As he is demanding answers Dick had slowly loosen his grip on his dad only to now found him staring at his gauntlet’s data hologram.

The information displayed? 99.98% Match confirmed to Jason Peter Todd.

So as this is clearly pure angst, I want Jason to lash out, sticking only to Zatanna only to realize she’s the magic user that’ll quote on quote will return him back to normal.

Jason is just like on really uneven ground here, even though he doesn’t think he’s ready to retur. But then Batman is just like “Jaylad” … “Jay…” and taking off his cowl and reaching up to him and looking at him like he knows him, like he’s something fragile and precious. Which is sooo fucking jarring you can understand. Jason internally is all what the fuck

Jason just wants them to back off. Jason is an overwhelmed bean. He looks up to Nightwing for help but the man is also mirroring the Bat, domino off and eyes suspiciously bright.

Zatanna is literally the only person in the room not emotionally compromised. She’s with Jay in the ??? train.

Suddenly she looks down and there’s the little boy whose eyes are pleading in helpless confusion. Eyes practically conveying the question you can return me back to normal right?? he pointedly doesn’t rip his eyes from hers as Zatanna puts a hand on his shoulder, pretending she doesn’t notice how he trembles and wordlessly asks if he’s sure.

cut scene

Bruce interrupts because information overload and he can’t compartmentalize this is too important and he and Dick stop Zatanna to which she too is ?? because that was literally what she was called for here. Dick is no help.

Dick is torn.

[shima-draws]

Mhmm. Got new OC ideas on the brain. It’s basically the trope of “I thought I lost you when we were kids but you’ve actually been by my side now that we’re adults yet I was too fucking STUPID to realize it was you all along” which is like. MWAH chef’s kiss 😩👌

[merevide]

good morning. what if i killed myself in front of spotify

[sharkieboi]

broke person life hack win! convinced my grandma to buy me a bookshelf for my birthday so that I don’t have to spend the money myself!

[navybrat817]

The Day After

Pairing: Roommate's Brother!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Your new roommate introduces you to her brother, but you met him last night.

Word Count: Over 2.3k

Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, mention of hooking up, tension, humor, flirting, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes being a menace (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Calling this AU About Last Night. No one asked for it. Hope you enjoy it anyway! @targaryenvampireslayer @tavners @starlightcrystalline he's such a menace! ❤️ Thanks to the lovely @whisperlullaby for prereading and assuring me it isn't garbage. Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You groaned as you saw the time and wiped down the coffee table again. Rebecca Barnes, your new roommate, would be there any minute. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous. She seemed like a sweetheart and was down to earth, the perfect person to take the other bedroom and help with rent. Plus, she had already seen the place and seemed excited to be roommates.

She was doing you a favor by moving in. Your last roommate got engaged and moved in with her fiancé. While you were thrilled for her, keeping a place in this part of town was costly. You had debated downsizing, but there was nothing available. Giving up the place would’ve been tough as well since you did love your apartment and it was close to work.

“It’ll be great,” you said, taking a wipe to the table once more.

Maybe you were on a cleaning spree so your mind wouldn’t keep going back to the guy from last night. The one at the bar with the piercing blue eyes and charming smile. And the beefy frame and soft chestnut hair that framed his face. The same hair you pulled when he laid you down on his bed and kissed down your body and-

You jumped at the knock on your door. Now wasn’t the time to think about the guy who blew your back out. “Just a sec!” You called out, putting the cleaning supplies away before you straightened up your top. With a deep breath, you opened the door with a smile. “Becca, hi!”

Rebecca’s smile was enough to light up the whole place, her brown hair swept back to showcase her beautiful face. You imagined guys, and maybe girls, flocked to her, but she told you she was single and happy that way. You were single, too, minus whatever last night was. “Hi,” she said, balancing a box in her hand before you held your hands out to take it. “How are you?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Good, but I’ll be better once I get everything inside. I didn’t realize I had so many boxes,” she teased.

“I’m happy to help with whatever you need,” you promised, setting the box down by her bedroom door. “Is your car outside?”

“Actually, one of my brother’s friends let us use his truck to haul most of my stuff here,” she said, a worried look crossing her face as she looked your way. “It’s okay that they help move the stuff in, right? I’m so sorry. I don’t think I asked. The furniture is just a bit heavy.”

“It’s fine. You have nothing to apologize for. This is your place now, too,” you assured her. You remembered her saying she had an older brother. Was his name James? “And you shouldn’t have to lug up an entire bedroom by yourself.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. My last roommate would’ve flipped,” she smiled, heading back to the door to stick her head out. “This way, guys!”

The first man that walked in was thick with broad shoulders and a smile as golden as his hair. If you had to imagine an all-American man in the flesh, this guy was it. But the guy that followed inside after him, he was the one who made your heart stop. The one who made your knees buckle. Because you knew those blue eyes.

And as his eyes bore into yours, he smirked.

Fuck…

“This is Steve, one of my brother’s best friends and pretty much like another brother,” Rebecca said, pointing to the blonde as you blinked. “And that’s my brother, James. Everyone calls him Bucky.”

You were very much aware that people called him Bucky. It was the name he made you cry out when he was balls deep inside you the night before. There was still an ache between your legs that reminded you just how thoroughly he fucked you. It was a miracle you were able to walk by the time he was done with you.

Not only did you manage to walk out of his room, you left his place before he woke up.

To be fair, it wasn’t your plan to ditch him after he took you in just about every position you could imagine. You just had to get home, shower, and clean up a bit before Rebecca showed up. And you did leave your number for him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve said as Bucky continued to stare.

The room suddenly felt very hot.

“James, could you not gawk at my new roommate like that, please?” his sister asked, waving a hand dismissively when he continued to stare at you. Thank god she spoke because your words were stuck in your throat. “I’m sorry. He does this weird staring thing sometimes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s okay,” you said, clearing your throat as Bucky raised an eyebrow. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You didn’t know what to say. “It’s nice to meet you guys, too.”

Bucky’s pretty eyes darkened a shade as he continued to stare you down. You shifted slightly on your feet. Was he upset that you left or that you just pretended not to know him, like last night hadn’t happened? But if you said you knew him, how would you explain it to his sister? You could’ve just said you met at a bar and left it at that. Or blurted out everything.

But how the hell were you to know Bucky was her brother? It wasn’t like the two of you had exchanged last names. Oh, Jesus, what was wrong with you?

The corner of Bucky’s lip tugged in a smile as he said your name. How did he manage to make it sound like honey and something sinful? “Becca was telling us all about you on the drive over. Said you’re very welcoming.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks as he gauged your reaction. “That was nice of her to say,” you said, tearing your gaze away because you didn’t know what else to do. “Becca, I can go to the truck and-”

“Actually, could you show me where the bathroom is?” Bucky casually cut you off, jerking his head toward the door. “Steve, Becca, if you wanna grab a couple more boxes, I’ll be right down.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded as Rebecca narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t bother my roommate,” she warned before she left with Steve.

The brunette swung his head back toward you, a wolfish grin on his face as you gulped. “I won’t be a bother, will I?”

“Bathroom’s this way!” You said much louder than you needed to, your heart racing as you went down the hall. He was right on your tail and you wondered if he would figure out which bedroom was yours and drag you into it. The hall seemed more narrow with him in it. The wonderful smell of him took up the space, too. “Right there,” you said, not looking him in the eye as you pointed to the bathroom door.

He put an arm up to block your exit. “Nice to meet me, huh?” He asked, tsking as he shook his head. “Did I fuck you so good that you lost your memory?”

You inhaled, your cheeks hot. “Bucky!” You hissed, looking over his shoulder to make sure his sister and friend weren’t back yet.

“So, you do remember my name,” he said. The smirk that followed almost had you dropping to your knees. What sorcery did this man have over you and how could you get it to stop? “I mean, you should remember it. I did have you screaming it.”

You stuck a finger in his face as you stepped closer. “Shut the fuck up! If your sister hears, she might get upset and back out of the lease. And I don’t want her to leave. She’s nice and I can’t afford this place without a roommate.”

He gripped your wrist and maintained eye contact as he swirled his tongue around the tip of your finger. An unashamed whimper slipped past your lips that you couldn’t smother, yet you didn’t make a move to stop him. “My sister won't back out of the lease, so don’t worry about that.”

“O-Okay,” you said, trying not to let him distract you as he repeated the motion. Your nipples hardened under your top anyway. Damn him. “But if she stays, how am I supposed to explain that we…”

“Fucked until the sun came up then fucked again? Yeah, you're right. It might be really hard.” He tilted his head as his gaze went lower. Was he trying to kill you? “About as hard as when I had my cock in your sweet, wet-”

You covered his mouth to smother the rest of the statement, but you felt the vibration from the word “pussy” against your skin. He chuckled at your expression. The man was going to drive you crazy.

“Yes, yes. We fucked. Best fuck of my life, okay?” You admitted in a huff.

A genuine smile touched his lips as he lowered your hand. Not a smirk or smug smile, but something lighter like when the two of you chatted over a drink. A smile that made your knees weak. “I was the best fuck of your life?”

You shook your head. You shouldn’t have said that. “That isn’t the point, but I do want to point out that I don’t make it a habit of hooking up with random guys,” you said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Amusement filled his eyes. “I know. You told me that when I brought you home and I believed you,” he reminded you, your breath hitching when he leaned in close. “But you still begged me to fuck you raw. Or did you ‘forget’ that, too?”

Electricity crackled between the two of you slowly exhaled. “I didn’t forget,” you breathed, your tongue darting out to touch your lip. It almost touched his.

How could you ever forget how right it felt when he filled you up?

“Yeah? Then were you embarrassed that you went home with me?” He asked, his voice quieter than before as he took your hand in his. His thumb moved over your skin as your pulse quickened again. “Is that why you left this morning? Or acted like we hadn’t met?”

Your gaze softened. God, did you hurt his feelings? You hadn’t meant to. “No, I’m not embarrassed that I went home with you. Not at all,” you promised. Bucky was like a god and you were a mere mortal that he somehow chose to bless with his presence. “I’m sorry I left. I only did that because I had to get back here.”

“I could’ve given you a ride. Well, another ride,” he said, brushing his fingers along your cheek, his voice still not back to normal yet. “I’m a gentleman like that.”

“I didn’t want to wake you, but I did leave my number,” you said, hoping that would at least soothe the unintended wound. “And I’m not at all pointing fingers, but you didn’t exactly jump to tell your sister we had met either when you walked in.”

He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. “She’ll be back any minute. Let’s tell her.”

“Tell her what?” You asked. The two of you hooked up. There was no label or relationship yet. “We did a lot of things that I don't think she needs to hear about.”

The smile morphed back to the smirk that was getting under your skin in the best way. “Then come to my place so she can't hear the things we’ll do to each other. You know I have a great bed.”

You smiled and considered it for a moment. The handsome menace was single and so were you. Would it be so bad to go with him again? Yes. You couldn’t ditch your new roommate to hop into her brother’s bed, especially on the day she was moving in.

With a shake of your head, you backed away. “You’re unbelievable,” you replied, almost giving in when he pouted. That look probably got him whatever he wanted with most people. “And I’m not going back to your place today.”

“Why not? Like you said, you left me your number,” he said, making a show of holding up his phone. “You obviously wanted to, at the very least, talk to me again.”

“Look, Bucky, can we talk about this later? Please? Your sister’s moving in today. Let’s focus on that.”

His shoulders slumped, but he recovered in the blink of an eye. “Okay, you’re right. But you promise we’ll talk? Because I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, you wanted to talk to him again and it warmed your heart that he seemed interested in talking to you, too. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it either,” you told him. But you couldn’t dwell on that when you heard footsteps approaching. “I promise we’ll talk later and figure out whatever this is.”

That appeased him for now since he dropped his arm. “Later then.”

“James! Are you done going to the bathroom? I thought you were going to help?” Rebecca’s voice rang out. “Oh, God, you’re bothering her, aren’t you?”

You giggled as you ducked past him. “He isn’t bothering me.”

“But I am offering to order dinner for all of us if she doesn’t mind the company after we bring the rest of the stuff up. Maybe we can all watch a movie, too,” Bucky said from behind you, smiling when you looked over your shoulder with an exasperated gaze. “What do you say?”

You had to smile back because you knew you’d say “yes” before Steve brought the next box in.

And things were about to get a lot more interesting in your life since Bucky Barnes seemed determined to continue whatever had transpired the night before.

Neighbor!Bucky level of being a menace. 😂 I also like to imagine this is a version of Stud and Smartie in another world had she lived with his sister instead. ❤️‍🔥 How long before Becca finds out? What shenanigans will these two get up to? Do you lovelies want to see the night before? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[priniya]

🌌 TOO MANY NIGHTS

synopsis. theodore nott spent too many nights, smoking and hanging out with matt’s little sister to not make her his girlfriend.

notes. theodore nott x riddle!reader. reader is a hufflepuff! pls, let’s pretend you’re 12 when u get to hogwarts xoxo, just for the plot

theodore nott had always been fascinated by how many differences there were between his best friend mattheo and mattheo’s younger sister. while mattheo wanted to fight anyone, who just scrunched their nose at him, you would rather have your nose broken, so the other person wouldn’t have to go through that pain. while mattheo could be consider as the grumpy (their oldest sibling obviously being the grumpier), you held the tilte of the sunshine.

theo believed it suited you. ever since the three of you were kids, mattheo had his best friend grow protective of you in the same way he had, looking out for you even if you didn’t want it. however, whenever it was nott making your blood boil with some nonsense — you couldn’t get as mad at him as you’d get at your brother. it’s because he’s not my brother, he’s theo, you’d always tell yourself. the truth was that as much as you wanted, you could never be angry with him.

the same thing continued when you started hogwarts. although, you could feel the shifting of your friendship with theo. maybe it all started to happen, because you were growing up, or maybe it was meant to be like that. anyways — you found yourself dreaming of your childhood friend in situations… that made you blush profusely whenever you walked passed him. it was complicating things so much you tried to push it aside, nevertheless to no avail.

“you like him.” a friend of yours joked, when you confessed your thoughts about theo, and… even if gabriela said it in a joking way, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

turns out, she was.

it was all revealed, when another older friend of yours asked you out to the yule ball, and you had to watch theo having fun with daphne greengrass as well as their own group of friends that you weren’t a part of. did it sting? like hell. should’ve you expected it? absolutely. some would say — you should wait for the moment, when he asks you to the ball, but you knew you were just matt’s little sister in his eyes. a mere childhood friend he used to play with when he was younger, though all that ended the second he (and your brother) got his letter, from this moment on theodore nott was a serious, adult man.

few years later, when the slytherins were throwing a party in celebration of mattheo’s eighteen birthday, as his sister, you got an invitation. as much as you loved your brother, you definitely weren’t a big party person — you’d rather spend your time in the smaller group of people, chilling to the muggle music and maybe get high. nonetheless, it was your sibling’s birthday and you wouldn’t hear the end of it if you didn’t show up.

to be fair, matt’s celebration was one of the first slytherin parties you ever attended, and from all the rumors coating its mysterious aura, your expectations were pretty high.

gabriela, the friend of yours, whom you confided in having a small crush on theo, apparently never forgotten that conversation and decided to ‘spice your night a tad’, her exact words. she lent you a fitted, emerald, silky dress that ended slightly above your knee, she did your make up and gave a nose kiss for good luck.

for the first two and a half hour of the party, you couldn’t really catch a glimpse of the boy you were looking for, so your attention were turned towards plan b, which was getting wasted — and maybe meeting someone to get your brother’s best friend off your mind. so as i said, two and a half hour later, you were much more eccentric, bubbly, and definitely more ray of sunshine, caused by the loads of alcohol you put in yourself.

“teddy!” you exclaimed with a grin as you swiftly made your way towards where he was sitting in the corner of the room. a cigarette in his hand, few of his first buttons undone, a smirk lingering on his lips, although it was gone the second he saw you, being replaced with a genuine, but almost unnoticeable smile.

“riddle.” he replied. the corners of his lips went slightly upwards as your hands were wrapped around him, right after you plopped down on the couch next to him. “drunk?” theo asked, his head tilted to the side to get a better view of your flushed face.

“never.” a giggle slipped past your lips. you leaned more on him, serving him another one of your charming beams. “can i have a hypothetical question?”

“hypothetical?” he echoed your words, suppressing a laugh in attempt to not hurt your drunken feelings. “sure, riddle. go on.” nott added upon seing you nod your head.

“could you give me one of your cigarettes?” you grinned once again, putting all effort into a pleading puppy expression you thought you’ve mastered. his answers made you uncertain about your manipulation/daddy’s girl skills.

once again, theodore fought back a chuckle, putting on a teasing smirk. “no.”

“teddy!”

“what? wasn’t it hypothetical?” he snickered, watching you groan theatrically, lowering yourself on the green sofa. it took him a moment to ease your needs and pull out a package of muggle cigarettes that made you raise your eyebrow in curiosity at him. “they’re the best, believe me.” he mumbled with a cigarette in between his lips.

soon after, he tugged you closer after having looked around to see if mattheo was out of sight. as soon as his nerves were settled and your brother was nowhere to be found, theo’s fingers were wrapped around the lighter he bought in second year. the asshole he was, it felt like he was lighting it up for so long you were about to turn eighty. his gaze was instantly focused on your eyes. butterflies were slowly erupting in your stomach with each second he slacked off to light it.

somehow, you two parted your ways few minutes later, ending the sparkling moment between you two with a quick and rash kiss on nott’s cheek, a little too close to his lips for your brother’s liking, too far for yours.

although, the separation didn’t last too long. at least for him, because, when you met him again, you were drunk out of your mind, giggling at every single word someone said to you. good thing theo’s gut feeling told him to look after you.

you were stumbling over your own feet, stuttering at easiest words until you finally landed in paradise— or just his arms. accidentally, but you could cross it out from your checklist, not that you had one.

“hiya.” a soft smile made its way onto your face as he tightened the grip on your waist, not because you smiled so charmingly at him, but also because some older dudes that occupied his previous spot was busy undressing you with their eyes.

if you weren’t mattheo’s little sister, he’d probably try to get you to agree to have a quick round in his round, hell — maybe not even that quick, he could spend an entire night with a girl like you. unfortunately, the reality was different. he could never take an advantage of you, you were too… you and theodore nott liked that too much to just… ruin it.

“what’re you doing?” you asked, frowning as he picked you up and turned towards the staircase. “teddy– put me down, please.” the words left your lips in a slurred manner, but theodore didn’t budge, not even once.

the teenager obeyed your request the moment he walked through the door to his dormitory that was shared with mattheo. theodore sat you on his bed, his green eyes scanning your face intently, while you stiffled a laughter. as a result, you got a confused expression from him. “what?” he asked.

“you’re so pretty.” a soft mumble left your mouth. it had always been hard to catch theodore nott off guard, mostly because he was an intelligent and cunning person, who always noticed the bigger picture, predict the intentions before someone even opened their mouth, yet you did it. if your mind wasn’t so clouded with alcohol, you’d count it as a small win.

anyway, theo didn’t let your words get too much of a hold on him as he silently continued to undress you. as wrong as it sounds, he was doing you a simple favour — nott wanted to bring you comfort and safety, so he dragged you to his dorm and began unzipping your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

it took the boy all the possible strength he had in himself to control all the urges he just felt. it would be so wrong if he got hard just from the mere sight of the goddess sitting in front of him, with pouty lips and a baffled expression caused by his lack of response to her compliment.

“teddy?” you tried getting his attention once again, involuntarily scrapping off the polish of your nails as your eyes rested on his back, watching him shuffle through his closet to find you a comfortable pyjama.

to be fair, theo absolutely loathed the nickname. teddy reminded him of a child he used to be, a child with a loving mother, who would always call him that exact nickname. it wasn’t too much of a hassle, because no one called him that — until you did and it seemed like you couldn’t get rid of it from your vocabulary. somehow, it never bugged him when you did it. the way ‘teddy’ rolled off your tongue always gave him some sort of warm feeling in his stomach.

“mm?” your brother’s best friend muttered, his back still facing you. seconds later, he’s again in front of you, nudging you yet so slightly, so you put your hands above your head. “what is it, y/n/n?” he used the nickname you haven’t heard in a while, causing a literal war in your abdomen.

“could you kiss me?” for barely a second, his brain stopped functioning. he stopped in his tracks, oversized t–shirt still in his hands, all that until he decided to spare your embarrassment the next day and acted like he didn’t just hear what he heard. he was foolish for thinking that a sight of you almost naked and not getting a hard–on was the worst part of his night. now, theodore’s brain was filled with images of you two making out, and… it’s tough.

wordlessly, he finally put the shirt on you, nudging you afterwards, worry was still vividly lingering on his face as he watched you getting comfortable. “i’ll be right here.” nott murmured, grabbing a pillow, laying down on the floor. theo on one side of his bed, the bucket he brought you in case throwing up on the other.

both of you knew that he could go back downstairs, maybe even hook–up with some girl and spend the night at her dorm, just like mattheo did. nevertheless, he stayed there right with you.

it was further in the night, when you woke up and noticed that he still occupied his spot on the floor next to the bed. a pang of guilt hit you (as well as the pounding in your head) as you stared at his peaceful state.

merlin, theodore faustus nott was today times’ adonis and you felt like you could just spend the rest of the night gawking at how insanely beautiful he was. you could barely resist the urge to run your hand through his dark curls.

“you know i can feel you’re staring, riddle?” theo chuckled with his eyes still closed. shit. at least it was dark enough, so he couldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “somethin’ bothering you?” he asked, giving you a concerned look.

“sleep on the bed, please?” you pleaded. he was about to refuse, when you continued. “i know you don’t want to kiss me, but it breaks my heart seeing you suffer there, when there’s enough room for two people here.” the words coming out of your mouth are quiet. the embarrassment and absurdity of this whole situation got to you — if you just didn’t ask him to kiss you, he’d probably sleep in the bed with you, but you obviously had to ruin it.

“y/n/n, i want to kiss you.” he said, his tone matching yours. “but i can’t, you know it. mattheo would kill me the second he knew.” theo knew he shouldn’t but the urge was too great to resist, so he placed his hands on your knees, reducing the distance between the two of you.

“matt doesn’t have to know.” a whispers left your lips as you leaned an inch closer, brushing the tip of your nose against theo’s. “teddy, please.” you pleaded, staring at him with urgency in your eyes.

it took theodore half a second to consider his options. he could’ve refused and regret it afterwards, but stay alive or he could’ve just kissed you and maybe get into a heated argument with mattheo. so… a voice in his head said fuck it and kissed you with all those feelings he’s had in him.

you could feel your entire world stop the second his lips fell on yours with urgency and passion. it was all you ever dreamed of, he was the guy who was your last thought before sleep and the first after waking up. a silly, childhood crush that developed over the years into… something you couldn’t describe. theodore nott had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing it — if he asked you to jump into a fire pit for a longing glance, you wouldn’t think about it twice and jump.

your fingers were tangled in his curls as he, without breaking the kiss, leaned more towards you, until your back hit the fabric of his sheets. to be completely honest, you felt like your stomach was about to be ripped apart just from the proximity between the two of you.

the kiss lasted way longer than you expected. it could’ve been hours, but you could never been sure. his lips were just inches apart, when he pulled away yet so slighty, letting out a groan as you nudged the tip of your nose again his.

“you don’t even know how much i wanted to do that.” his words were quiet. “matt will kill me, won’t he?” a low chuckle espaced his throat qs you let out a groan in response.

“could you stop mentioning my brother and just kiss me, nott?”

[yuwuta]

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?” 

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you. 

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him. 

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.” 

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever. 

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.” 

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension. 

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure. 

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work. 

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.” 

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.” 

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.” 

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?” 

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses. 

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft. 

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.” 

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.” 

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.” 

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint. 

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch. 

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you. 

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek. 

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.” 

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.” 

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.” 

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.” 

“And park it where?” 

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here. 

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.” 

“Yours will be towed by then.” 

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.” 

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.” 

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?” 

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea. 

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat. 

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—” 

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?” 

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.” 

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!” 

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people. 

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights. 

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.” 

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice. 

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room. 

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be. 

[carame1bunny]

𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖌𝖌𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖔𝖓

pairing: Alastor x fem!doe Reader

summary: Mating season has it’s struggles and it affects Y/N the most.

warning: no smut yet(sorryyy), talks of sex and heat, mostly fluff and Alastor being a sweetie

It has a part 2 :)

Everyone, except one person from the Hotel, was in the parlor, having coffee and just eating breakfast.

Y/N had locked herself in her room, only coming out for a few minutes to gather herself food for the whole day and to let everyone know that she was okay.

“No, but really… What the fuck is up with her?” Asked Angel.

“It’s that time of the year for deers, it’s called mating season, I looked it up.” Charlie said, before, she was worried about her so she found a book about it and learnt about it.

“Oohhh, so our doe is horny? It’s a mood, honestly.” Angel instantly got into his flirty voice and he turned to Husk “Don’t whiskers gets heats? Mmmh… We could satisfy it together!” He leaned more into him, but he only got shoved off.

“Fuck off!”

For the first time that morning, Alastor decided to speak. “It’s more than sexual feelings.” All heads turned to him in question, so he continued. “Female deers are overwhelmed by their maternal instincts, their whole bodies are aching to take care of their own little fawns.”

Vaggie spoke. “So, she is pregnant?”

“AWWW—-“ Charlie’s eyes turned big and teary.

Alastor chuckled in response. “Heavens no! This is where the sexual instincts slip in—“

“Slip in?” Angel raised his brow suggestively, but got a flick to the head, by Husk again.

“Ha.ha.ha. No. Whether she mates or not, her body still feels the need to mother.”

“That’s why she is curled up all day in that big pile of blankets?” Vaggie asked and both Charlie and Alastor nodded in unison.

“She also put on some weight too? Don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy. Her thighs are so plushy and her ass and ti—-“

“Yes, she gains weight in case she needs to feed a fawn and keep it warm during the cold season.”

There was a bit of comfortable silence before… guess who spoke up again.

“Hold on a second.” Angel perked his head up. “Aren’t you supposed to be in heat too? You’re a deer, too.”

All heads turned to Alastor, who didn’t show how uncomfortable he felt. He only chuckled with a wide smile, but before he could have brushed it off, the missing doe entered the parlor.

“Good morning!” All kinds of greetings were heard. She sat down on the couch.

“How are you today?” Husk asked her.

She smiled. “I’m okay, thank you. I am just going out, I have to stock up on my sweets, I’ve ran out. Anyway… I’m just goi—“ She started to make her way to the door, but Alastor appeared in front of her.

“Like hell you are! It’s dangerous out there for you.” He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear. “You wouldn’t want any bucks catching your scent and doing… heaven knows what.”

“B-but I need my sweets.” She huffed.

Alastor just stroked her ears. “Don’t you worry, doe, I’ll go out and get them for you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask that.” Their faces were inches away, completely oblivious that all eyes were on them and all lips were smirking their way.

“Nonsense! You just go back to your nest, lock the door and I will be there in a bit, with all you could need.” When he finished his sentence, he was already out the door.

She turned around, she needed to get back, every nerve in her body was on the edge.

When both deers were gone, Angel spoke again.

“What the fuck did I just witness?!”

“Her body acknowledged that a buck gave her commands, so she must comply.” Charlie said, with a smug undertone in her voice.

Everyone scaterred after that, only Husk and Angel were at the bar, sipping on their usual strong liquor.

“So… Creepy face is in heat too.”

Husk stopped the cleaning of the glasses to laugh.

“Exactly.”

“So, a fawn running around the hotel is not too far way in time, is it?” His fingers glided around the rim of the glass.

“If it’s up to Alastor, it will be even sooner.”

[greaseonmymouth]

I may have the skills to repair an iPhone (not actually that difficult if you have steady hands, the tools, and a YouTube video) but I spent half an hour on a call with IT at work today because I couldn’t change my goddamn password

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

[schrijverr]

We’re Adopted?!?

When Bruce’s kids end up on the Watchtower due to a set of unforeseen circumstances, Jason first tries to get the League to believe that they’re all biologically related to Bruce. He tries to avoid having Jason give everyone a sex talk by reminding him that he’s adopted. This leads to all his kids pretending that this is the first time they’ve heard of it, much to the horror of the League and the exasperation of Bruce.

Based on this post.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

It finally happened. After years of successfully keeping the League from finding out about all the kids he has, they’ve finally met. And in the most dramatic way too. In a way it’s very suited for their family, but that is a detail Bruce had hoped to keep from the League.

However, it happens anyway and now his two teams have met.

They’re sitting in the common area of the Watchtower when the Zeta-Tube suddenly whirs to life and the Batmobile comes crashing into the area. It spins to a stop as if it had been in the middle of a chase, before the teleporter snatched them off the streets.

Bruce gets out of his chair and makes his way over. He isn’t too worried about them, since they’re here and while that might have meant danger before, they are safe with him now. If one of them had been terribly injured or left behind, they would be screaming and yelling already and that isn’t happening yet.

His eyes meet Tim’s, who is standing next to the car, his costume a little singed, hair askew and looking a little worse for wear. Apologetically he greets: “Hi, Justice League, promise we have a good reason to be here.”

For Bruce, this is quite normal chaos and these are his kids, but he notices that the Justice League has formed a defensive barrier around the Batmobile. They perceive his kids as a threat. It’s so absurd that he is quiet for a moment.

In that moment, Superman steps forward and demands to know: “Who are you and how did you get up here?”

“With a car no less,” Hal adds, sounding a little impressed, which doesn’t make Bruce smug in the slightest, no sir.

He is about to tell everyone to stand down when the doors of the car open and his kids come spilling out. It’s a bit of a car clown moment with how many vigilantes fit inside.

Dick nearly falls out of the side, with Damian following after him. Both of them have soot in their hair and scratches on their faces.

A singed Jason stumbling out on the other side as he loudly complains: “This is the last time we’re letting Spoiler drive.”

Steph’s costume is a little flame tattered too as she swings open the driving side and says: “I’d like to see you do better, asshole. At least it wasn’t like Signal’s first driving attempt.”

“Hey,” Duke exclaims, coming out of the car after Jason, looking a little banged up. “Just because I didn’t know where the missiles were, doesn’t mean it was terrible.”

“I didn’t eject anyone,” Steph pouts.

“Yes, you did!” Duke exclaims. “You very much did.”

“Well, not by accident,” Steph argues. “It was part of the plan.”

The other front door is now open and Cass is next to him. He puts an arm around her and pulls her into his cape. Then he decides to step in, because it seems the League doesn’t know what to do when they’re not viewed as an authority.

“What happened?” he asks.

Six heads snap his way, as if his kids had forgotten where they were. It wouldn’t be the first time, so he doesn’t even bother rolling his eyes.

Tim reports: “The Riddler broke out of Arkham, along with like a bunch of b-rate villains. They caused havoc, but we rounded them all up. Riddler took the time it took us to round them up to set up his trap. He went with a fire theme.”

“Is he contained now?” Bruce asks, a little concerned.

“Yeah, no problem, B, we got ‘em,” Steph assures him casually with a thumbs up.

“Sorry, uhm, excuse me, Batman, do you know these people?” Clark asks in that awkward, polite way of his.

Bruce contemplates for a second what he should answer. Then decides that he wants to know what happened and doesn’t want to deal with questions. So he just says: “My associates. Now report, how did you end up here?”

“Associates,” Jason snorts.

However, he is ignored by his siblings as Damian reports: “We have caught the Riddler, however we did so without solving the last of his riddles. So, he sprang his trap after we took him down and we became the target of some missiles.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?” one of the League members exclaims under their breath.

“Tt, of course we’re okay,” Damian spits back. “Unlike you, we have been trained.”

“And we learned our lesson; always solve all of Riddler’s riddles,” Steph grins, giving them all a thumbs up.

“I already said that, but who listens to Red Robin? Nobody,” Tim complains.

Before it can turn into a squabble fest again, Bruce clears his throat and Dick jumps in to get them back on track, explaining: “We tried to get away in the Batmobile, but we couldn’t outrun it forever. So we decided the best way to escape was to use the Zeta-Tube connection.”

“It was great, Spoiler sent replacement flying so he could put in the code,” Jason laughs.

“I wanted to beam us to the Cave, but with the amount of time we had, just taking us to the most recently used coordinates was smarter,” Tim explains. He checks his arm computer then says: “The chatter on the police coms is that the missile made impact where we disappeared. No one was in the area when it went off, but there is property damage. And a few of the new recruits are convinced we’re supernatural, since none of our remains are being found.”

That last bit gets a few laughs from the assembled vigilantes. Most of Gotham PD have resigned themselves to the fact that the protectors of Gotham are humans, who seemingly pull of the impossible from time to time.

However, there are always newer members, who come up with great conspiracies about how they aren’t human and that’s why they pull it off. Bruce knows that it’s a bit of a game between his kids to see who can get them to believe the weirdest shit about them.

So, he just lets them have the moment of amusement after what must have been a highly tense moment.

Then he asks: “Where is Bluebird?” since he hasn’t seen Harper among the crowd, which is weird, because she’s on the night shift, while Duke is on the day shift.

“She the one, who figured out where Riddler was and caught him,” Dick says proudly. “She was escorting him to Arkham when she noticed he was being off. Without her we would’ve never made it to the Batmobile on time.”

Bruce makes a mental note to thank her for saving his other kids when he sees her.

“We also let Oracle know we’re okay, so she can inform her and Batwoman when she gets back from her mission, just in case she saw the news,” Dick goes on.

“Wait,” they get interrupted by Hal. “How many more heroes are you going to pull out of your sleeve? What happened to Mr. I Work alone? Am I being crazy here? Why are you all just standing there?”

Clark says: “Well, it’s obvious Batman knows these people and they do not seem like a threat to us, so I was going to wait until they’d given a report before demanding answers.”

“And we will demand answers, Batman,” Diana adds, making Bruce swallow a little. “We are your friends, we hoped there would be some trust there. You seem to have a whole different team of warriors. That is something you share.”

“Don’t mind, B, he just comes with permanently built in paranoia, it’s nothing against you,” Dick tells them.

In the background, Jason snorts: “Did you hear that guys? We’re his team of warriors. His associates.”

Damian huffs at that: “These imbeciles obviously do not know what they are on about and I refuse to be referred to as such, when I am the blood son.”

“I don’t know, Robin,” Steph laughs. “It almost starts to feel like he cares. I mean, he obviously has been bragging about us.”

“He has not spoken a word about us,” Damian exclaims.

In the background, Bruce can feel a headache coming. He has tried to keep his kids away from the League for their own safety. They can’t use his kids against him, should they become compromised, if they don’t know they exist.

However, they do know now and not only that, it seems like his kids are here to cause trouble on purpose now that they finally get to meet, who they refer to as, ‘his work friends AKA the only friends he has’. Delightful.

Indeed, the League has picked up on the words Jason set Damian up for, because Hal repeats: “Blood son?”

And Clark frowns: “They do seem quite young.”

“Batman, are you employing babes to protect Gotham with you?” Diana exclaims in horror.

“I am highly trained, who dares to call me a baby,” Damian protests immediately and while his siblings would usually laugh at him, they now also feel offended.

All of them have had to defend their age to people, including Bruce. They don’t like being questioned. So all of them are falling over themselves to defend their position as protectors of Gotham.

Bruce decides to help them, explaining: “There are more teen heroes, most of you have or had a sidekick. These vigilantes keep each other safe, they have the safety of back up and I also provide good gear. They’re not running around without a clue of what to do.”

“Ahww, I knew you cared, old man,” Steph coos, while Cass taps a genuine thank you in Morse code on his arm.

“Batman, I appreciate that you look out of them, but most sidekicks have had superpowers that are related to one of the heroes and sought out a mentor to help,” Clark says gently. “You have no powers, where did you get these kids?”

And in hindsight, he should have known better than to hesitate. However, at the times, he does, because the circus, the streets, the neighbor’s and some villains, are not really good answers to that question, no matter how true. And he doesn’t know if he wants to explain.

Still, he has to admit that he melts slightly when Cass speaks up to say: “His kids.”

Plus, it’s kind of funny how most League member jump out of their skin at the sudden voice, since none of them had spotted Cass before. Not even those with superhuman senses. His daughter is so talented.

Arguably the funniest reaction is Hal, who shrieks: “Where the fuck did you get these kids, Spooky!” as he violently startles backwards.

However, Jason jumps on the opportunity, sending Bruce a shit eating grin before he does (he might still be wearing the helmet, but Bruce knows him). He says: “Well, when two people love each other very much, they-”

No, just no. Absolutely not.

The League already thinks him to be a bit of a weirdo, who is steeped in paranoia. They respect him, but they’re always a little wary of him too (which is good in a way, he doesn’t want them close to his secret identity with the threat they could pose). Still, he doesn’t want them to think he practically bred an army of shadow-y vigilantes to protect Gotham. He’d never live it down.

“Hood,” he quickly cuts Jason off, before he can continue with his nonsense. Then he tiredly reminds him: “You’re adopted.”

“WHAT!” Jason shrieks, ripping his helmet off to reveal a shocked and betrayed face even with his domino mask. “How could you keep that from me?”

It seems like everyone needs a second to recover and process after the outburst. However, Jason is gaining steam and dramatically barrels on: “For years. Years! I lived with you, you fed me, you cared for me. You are my dad. At least you were. Was that all a lie? Some ruse? How- Why- I deserved to know.”

Bruce is shocked, unable to form words. His relationship with Jason has been rough, though getting better. It’s still tentative, though, so to hear Jason refer to him as dad throws him off in one of the best ways. Until he realizes Jason is fucking with him.

Even then, it is kind of nice that Jason is messing with him. When he looks, he sees that Jason is having fun under the mask of betrayal. It doesn’t have a bitter undertone, like it would have a few months ago. Instead, it feels a little like all the times Jason messed with him in front of Commissioner Gordon, back when he was Robin.

So, later Bruce will cut himself some slack for basking in that feeling for long enough that the others catch on and join in.

It starts with Steph, who has never claimed him as her father a day in his life, but will always be committed to a bit. She sniffles: “I can’t believe you’d lie to our brother like that. Soon you’ll tell us we’re all adopted.”

“Spoiler,” Bruce warns, hoping to deter anyone else from joining in.

That doesn’t happen, instead, Dick pulls Duke into a hug and exclaims: “Yeah, next you’ll tell us Signal here isn’t our half brother, like you didn’t leave his mother at the altar.” He narrows his eyes and adds: “I was the flower boy too, I can’t believe you did that to her.”

He sees Duke’s calculating gaze, flitting between Dick and himself and knows it’s only a matter of time before he picks a side, so he grunts: “Signal, don’t-”

“She talked about it until her death. Don’t tell me she made it up,” Duke suddenly says, picking the side of his siblings. Bruce would be more glad about him getting along with them, if it weren’t for the fact that in joining him, he left Bruce.

“You monster,” Jason butts back in again, not having had the spotlight in too long. “Look what you’ve done. You can’t just drop something like that on us. You can’t just pull the rug out from under us. Adopted. Or am I the only one? Huh? Is that it? Are all of them your real kids except for me?”

It’s a little too close to home, so Bruce stumbles: “No, of course, you’re always my kid. But this isn’t news to you. To any of you.”

“So we are all adopted?” Tim shrieks, stumbling forwards to clutch Bruce’s arm. “Those people you took me away from, were they my real parents? Did you lie to me?”

And this is just unfair. They’re not allowed to gang up on him like this and be dramatic. They know he doesn’t know what to do when they get like this. He gave them a home, he kept them as safe as he could, he loves them. What has he done to deserve this?

Dick and Duke are still embracing each other and Bruce is pretty sure Dick is weeping. Steph is definitely fake crying, while Jason is consoling her. Tim is still clutching his one arm, babbling about being taken from his parents.

Cass is his favorite right now, because she isn’t playing along with her sibling, just quietly huddling into his side. Damian would share the spot, but Bruce knows that the only reason he isn’t playing along, is because he doesn’t know what their game is and how he can use it to his advantage.

Indeed, he joins in – though not entirely purposefully – because he asks: “Father, I am your true son right? I am the blood son, not these imbeciles.”

Jason is definitely hiding a snort as a sob and in that moment, Bruce is tempted to disown Damian, just so he doesn’t have to deal with all this.

He can see how shocked the Justice League is, their eyes wide with horror, none of them having truly recovered at the sudden appearance at a gaggle of kids, who are now seemingly breaking down over the surprise news of being adopted.

He should’ve just let Jason give the League a sex talk.

So, he is tempted to not recognize Damian as his own, however, he knows how much Damian values his heritage and how insecure he is about his spot in the family. And he does look genuinely worried about what’s happening. So, Bruce has to sigh and reward the vulnerability that he shows with compassion, saying: “Yes, Robin.”

Jason lets out a pained groan and says: “So it is true? We really are adopted?” then breaks down crying. It’s almost impressive how well he can sob on demand. How well all of them can, Bruce wonders when they learned that and who taught them that.

The League, meanwhile has also apparently reached their limits and Hal suddenly explodes: “Fucking hell, Bats. Is that how you’re telling them that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Around him all the others start to nod in agreement and Bruce knows that some of those shaking shoulders of his kids aren’t sobs but laughter at this point. He wonders if it’s wrong to return any of them, despite knowing that he would never give any of them up, even with all the gray hairs they’re giving him.

He does think about it though, especially when Clark cautiously says: “It seems unnecessarily cruel, Batman. They’ve just been chased through the streets by missiles. You could have waited.”

“Yes, it is very cruel,” Diana agrees. “And I do not know you to be cruel.”

Usually, Bruce has an image to maintain, but that image includes him working alone and having no sense of humor or humanity, so obviously it’s incorrect. Besides, any reputation he might have had has just been ruined by his kids. He doesn’t have to take this judgment from his friends.

So, he throws his hands up and, bordering on a whine, says: “I’m not cruel. They all know they’re adopted. All of them were over nine when it happened. Hell, not even all of them are adopted. Not all of them wanted to be. They know! They’re just messing with me.”

It’s quiet after his outburst.

Both the League and his kids blink for a few times. It’s clear that the League doesn’t know what to believe, but his kids are luckily done with the chaos. Though, Bruce doesn’t know if he’s happy with that when he sees some of their faces morph into grins.

Dick decides to put him out of his misery first, letting go of Duke to skip forwards and sling an arm around Bruce, which he grudgingly allows. He never says no to hugs from his kids, no matter what stunt they’ve just pulled.

“He’s right,” Dick smiles at everyone. Then he jokingly tugs on one of the ears on his cowl – something he has done since his early days as Robin – as he teases: “He didn’t mind. Right, B? You are a softie under there.”

“Who cares if he minds,” Jason says loudly. “That was hilarious, did you see everyone’s faces when replacement told them he’d stolen him out of his home. Golden. I’m gonna ask O for that footage the second we get back.”

Now the League is looking at them with even more confusion. Unsure of what to do now.

Bruce wants to let them suffer, but he also doesn’t want to give his kids room to do something else to embarrass him. So, he takes the reigns saying: “Just to clear it all up; this is Nightwing, my oldest.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Dick gives the League a bright smile.

“My second or third oldest – we’re not sure – Red Hood,” Bruce continues on, gesturing to Jason, who just gives them a salute. “And, again, the second or third oldest, Black Bat.” She waves at them, startling some again, since they’d forgotten she was there. Hm, they might have to do another stealth and awareness training day.

“This is Spoiler, she is not one of mine technically,” he continues on introducing everyone there.

Steph grins at all of them and says: “I eat his food and steal his money, but I’m not having him sign shit. All of the perks, none of the accountability.”

“And how you remind me of that,” Bruce sighs, before gesturing to Tim and saying: “This is Red Robin, my fourth kid. He is adopted, but also emancipated. And I did not steal him away from his parents.”

“Technically, he did, because they were kinda shitty, but only legally when they died,” Tim corrects, which is not necessary and Bruce will be answering questions about that for months. Judging by the smug look on his face, Tim knows.

Deciding not to engage for now, he moves on to Duke. “This is Signal, he is my ward. He normally works the day shift.”

“Hello,” Duke squeaks awkwardly.

“And this is Robin, he is the youngest,” Bruce finishes his introductions.

“I am the blood son of the Bat and the one true heir,” Damian exclaims proudly.

“Yeah, yeah, we know, brat,” Jason rolls his eyes. “You were once B’s sperm. Whoop-die-doo.”

Multiple faces contort at that, with Tim and Steph both exclaiming how gross that is and how he didn’t have to phrase it like that and how they never want to hear about Bruce’s sex life ever again in any way, shape, or form.

Hal comments: “Wait, you actually have a kid?”

Bruce fights the urge to facepalm as he deadpans: “Just a second ago, you were willing to believe I had seven or more, why do you seem surprised?”

That renders Hal speechless, which is good, because Bruce doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to check up properly on his kids, check up on Gotham, and be as far away from the League and their questions as he can.

So, he uses the silence to says: “Now, as interesting as this has all been, we are going home. I have a city to check on and kids to ground.”

All around him protests start up about how he either has no power over them and can’t ground them or that they’re too mature and well trained fro childish things such as grounding. But Bruce is great at tuning them out when needs must, so he types in the last of the Batcave coordinates and lets the Zeta-Tube take them home.

~~

A/N:

I love coming up with convoluted reasons of why the batfam would be in the Watchtower lmao

Also Alfred totally taught them to cry on command, knowing they would use it for evil <3

[dilfartist]

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

[princessbrunette]

when sarah and john b had decided they wanted to recruit you to join their relationship, there were a few subtle steps they had planned to take.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡

they saw your potential. they knew perhaps you weren’t the most overtly sexual in nature, but they also knew they could change that. sex was like cake, you could never just eat one spoonful of it. all they had to do, was pique your interest — not just in sex, but in sex with them specifically.

baby steps. you ask sarah to send her the videos she took of you guys from the party the night before, and she ‘accidentally’ includes a video of her and john b fucking she’d taken on her phone the same day. of course she acted bashful, apologising profusely for the mistake and acting incredibly grateful when you’d told her there was no problem and that you’d delete it.

‘yk i wouldn’t even really care if you watched it tbh. i trust you. its only me and john b anyway… 🤷🏼‍♀️💕’

— she’d text you after a moments passed. curiosity of course got the better of you, a shaky, clammy finger pressing the play button as you nervously bite your nail, glancing at the door and turning the volume way down as precaution as if someone were to catch you. the focus seemed to be on sarah, grinding her hips to ride the brunette boy, soft tits bouncing as he lazily smacks her ass and encourages her to keep riding. she seemed to be putting in the work, john b merely used as a vessel for pleasure, a dildo with a voice box— and something about that had you shamefully heating up. sure, your knowledge on sex was fairly limited — but what you did know through movies and tv shows was that guys were usually too prideful to let the girl do the work, yet therefore caring less for her pleasure. the two of them seemed… open. different.

the text of apparent permission sarah had sent you only made you feel the slightest bit less guilty when you snuck your hand down the waistband of your panties and humped clumsily at your palm as you hit replay.

the blonde cameron had facetimed you suddenly and out of the blue seven minutes later. you yanked your hand out your pants like there’d be a way for her to see you before you’d accepted the call and you swallow thickly, brain too frazzled to think before hitting the green button. she was smiling, laying on her bed in that white tank top that hugged her tits, the same tits from the video and accentuated her golden, barbie tan. you try and be normal about it. she’s just your friend after all.

“hey, what are you doing right now?”

you blink at her, the way she’s smiling at you — before checking yourself out in the small box in the corner. you look all heated and askew, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. fuck.

you told her you were watching a movie and then excused yourself not even two minutes later, overcome with embarrassment and the feeling of being caught. sarah rolls over once the call ends, smirking to john b who was reclined on her bed with a hand behind his head, scrolling through his own phone.

“she was totally getting herself off.” she purs matter-of-factly. the brunette boys eyes light up a little as he glances over, brows shifting upwards.

“yeah? how’d you know?”

“she had it written all over her face.”

the two of them got greedy, with the whole introducing you to the idea of being chronically horny thing. without even really speaking about it, they figured the more they normalised this kind of behaviour in the group dynamic, the more likely you were to feel comfortable enough to let them hit. jj maybank was sexual in nature to the knowledge of anyone who had the pleasure of having a conversation with him longer than five minutes. he was sure to make it easy and perhaps bridge the gap, they just needed their in.

by that point, you’d started to catch on anyway.

the four of you sit in a small uneven circle on the floor of the chateau, drinking on a friday night. at first you’re a little confused — you were so sure sarah had been hinting at something with you, herself and john b for a while now — but as you sat beside jj on the floor, his arm rested casually behind you, rubbing casual circles on your waist you perhaps started to question whether or not you’d made that up, and really they were just trying to be friendly so they could set you up with their friend.

as soon as the words ‘truth or dare’ leave john b’s mouth with a knowing, yet trusting and warm grin — you knew it was bound to take a turn. with this group, it always did. everything was about sex, whether you were doing it or talking about it or pretending to do it infront of eachother, it was some kind of secret obsession that you could feel yourself feeding into without knowing. a lamb being brought in to be sacrificed, a group of secretly perverted individuals itching to get your sweet, cranberry blood on their hands.

sarah speaks your name when you foolishly pick dare, worried if you had picked truth they’d make you recount all the things you’d hadn’t done. she leans across the circle to you on her hands and knees so her face is right in front of yours, breath in your face, ass in john b’s.

“i want you… to show me how you’d ride a dick.”

“what?”

she pushes back, reaching behind her on the couch and fetching the throw pillow, placing it in the centre of the circle with a mischievous grin. the pillow it long, firm and rectangular — the comfiest of its kind to nap on during the day whilst the group discuss whatever mishap they were planning on getting into that week.

“aw now we’re talkin’” jj gets comfortable, sitting back a little with a jokey grin. nothing about their tone was out of the ordinary, which what made you feel so comfortable.

“i don’t understand?” you smile, tilting your head like a lost puppy which only made you appear more delicious as their prey.

“straddle the pillow… and show us what you’d do if you were to ride an actual, real dick.” sarah explains kindly, even pulling your hand so you would shuffle forward on your knees to the centre of the small circle.

“look, we know you haven’t done that before— no shame in it,” john b shrugs one shoulder understandingly with an air of casualness which calmed you. “but a dares a dare and hey, maybe you could learn something right now.”

“i been told i’mma pretty good teacher too, so—” jj starts casually in his amused drawl, but is cut short pretty quickly by the sarah snapping her head towards him, her tone more curt and snappy.

“jj.” she scolds quickly and he shuts up, but as quickly as she changed her tone, she was back to smiling back at you encouragingly. she didn’t want jj to take it too far with the pervy jokes and send you running. their plan was perfectly crafted, and they didn’t need him ruining it. john b’s eyes linger on the blonde. nothing malicious about it, perhaps a warning though — because jj presses his lips together and moves his glance back to you with a thick swallow.

all in this time, you had decided to take another long swig of your drink before straddling the pillow. the group cheer, the fun and jokey atmosphere back in full swing as you cover your face, giggling into your hands.

your skirt stretches over your upper thighs at the position, and you shuffle — ensuring you’re sat comfortable on the throw cushion. perhaps the alcohol had lowered your guard, because without much thought — you wince, the material catching over your clit. you were sensitive, assumably from ovulation and as you try to get into a comfortable position, your face falls, realising you may be too sensitive to partake.

“uhm,” you clear your throat as the playful jeering dies down.

“go ahead. fulfil your dare.” sarah chuckles, leaning back against the couch behind her.

“i can’t.” you whisper, smile slipping off your face. the couples hearts drop a few millimetres in their chest, thinking perhaps they’d made you uncomfortable and soiled the whole thing. the blonde girls eyebrows furrow, leaning forward and scooching to sit directly infront of you.

“why? are you okay? i’m— i’m sorry—”

“no i’m okay,” you let out an airy laugh that relieves everyone. “maybe i’m just drunk but i’m a little sensitive… don’t think i can sit n’hump this pillow without…” you trail off, your shame sending heat to your cheeks and behind your ears. john b raises his eyebrows slowly in expectation.

“without…?”

you clench your thighs around the pillow, mortified, looking down at it before back up at him with puppy dog eyes and your teeth tucked over your bottom lip all sheepish. made him wanna finger you until you cried.

luckily, sarah’s face lights up with slow realisation, mouth forming an ‘o’ and eyes widening.

“without cumming?” she cooes before swivelling around to look at both boys, laughing in adoration. “aww, you’re sensitive! i didn’t even… know that was a thing!” she beams, and the boys follow, teeth glinting in the low light like hungry hyenas in a cave.

you loosen up a little, shoulders visibly relaxing and you giggle. “yeah… s’just quite a… firm pillow. pressing me in all types of places.” you shrug, girlishly.

“are you seeeeeeriously tellin’ me, that you can’t move back and forth just a little?” jj chuckles, dumbfounded from behind you and you peer shyly over your shoulder with a humble shrug. you wasn’t sure if they were to be making fun of you, but for some odd reason — based off vibes alone, your sensitivity felt like something to be proud of amongst the group. jj licks his lips.

when you turn back, sarah’s in your face again, her warm hands on your knees. she seems comfortable, so you relax into her touch. you notice john b watching the interaction before locking eyes with you and sipping out his beer bottle.

“okay well, a dares a dare, but if you really need someone to help you out…” she giggles, hands sliding up to your hips before she begins to forcefully tug you back and forth — leaving you no choice but to let her make you hump this pillow infront of everyone.

your hands fly to her shoulders to stabilise yourself, sucking in a shaky and unsure gasp as the seams in the fabric repeatedly catch over your clit through your thin panties. the music playing out the speaker seems to get louder, or maybe the blood is just pumping in your ears as the boys let out little encouraging cheers as they chuckle and continue to drink.

sarah tilts her head, hot breath on your jaw as she lowers her voice to something quiet and seductive for just you to hear, her hands now grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you along. “there you go, keep riding it. just like me in that video, right?” she croons, and your brows furrow — unable to stop the pornographic moan from leaving you.

embarrassed at the delighted reactions, you hide your face in sarah’s neck, hot and disorientated from the pleasure, hearing her amused chuckle close up. “its just us, nothing at all to be embarrassed about.” she shrugs against you. “can’t run from the dare, sweetie. jj, you wanna come up behind her and give her a hand?” she asks, and before you can lift your head — her hands have slid up your top, squeezing at your tits.

your hips aren’t left alone for long though, as jj straddles the long pillow right behind you and grips your hips, tugging them back and forth with a boyish roughness that had the fabric scraping against you in a new way. you whimper uncontrollably, feeling the blondes stiff crotch thumping against your backside each time he yanked you back.

“yeah-he-heahh, that’s the stuff. don’t tell me i never do anythin’ for ya babydoll. teachin’ you the valuable lesson of gettin’ off right now.” he drawls in your ear, his body heat making your back arch.

amidst this, john b carries the same cool and collected energy. he leans against the couch as he keeps his eyes on yours, taking another sip of his beer before reaching out and taking your hand in his to gently soothe over your knuckles when you announce in a panic that they were going to make you cum.

“thaaaats it,” he hums, voice bassy and delicious enough to make you hold onto every word, thighs clenching painfully. “riiiiide it out.”

something about his nonchalance made you believe it was perhaps his idea, and not sarah’s like you previously believed.

[cheeeeseburger]

B-a-b-y, baby

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This was almost called "Put a baby in me one more time", like the Britney Spears song lmao. Also, this was inspired by that one interview where he is asked about not having children. Anyway, English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes, enjoy!

Cooking was your love language. It’s true that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, because that’s how you got your husband, Fernando Alonso. You had cooked him his favourite dish and he had fallen right into your arms. On the other hand, baking was your way to relieve stress. The night before your wedding, you were up late baking a pie.

Today, you were both filled with love and stress, and that’s why you ended up with your large dinner table buried under elaborate dishes and delicious desserts. There was enough food to feed an army. The entire F1 grid could’ve gone for seconds or thirds and there would still be enough for leftovers.

The reason for all of this? You had taken a pregnancy test, and it was positive. While this was wonderful news, you had yet to tell your husband.

“Princesa?” Your husband called out for you as he entered your home.

“In here!” Your stomach was doing cartwheels.

It’s not like he wouldn’t be happy. He had always wanted to be a dad, but as he got older, his dream of having his own children slowly started to fade away. You also wanted to have children, and although you were still young, you had yet to meet the man you imagined getting you pregnant. Luckily for you two, you found each other.

“Mi amor, are we having guests tonight?” Fernando asked when he saw the table full of food. As usual, he gave you a quick kiss.

You let out a nervous laugh. “No, no, it’s just us tonight. Why don’t you sit down?”

“Which bottle of wine shall I open for tonight? What will go well with all this wonderful food you have cooked?” Oh no. Wine was definitely out of the picture.

“I made lemonade, we don’t need wine! Please sit down my love, I don’t want the food to get cold.” He looked at you, noticing your odd behaviour, but he did not pick up on it.

“Alright princesa, if you insist.”

The meal went fine, but you had not yet found the courage to tell him the news. You didn’t know if it was because of all the sugar, the nervousness or the baby, but you felt like throwing up. At least, he seemed to really enjoy the food.

“Mi amor, I’m not going to fit in my race suit because of you!” He patted his stomach, and you knew it was your moment.

“Actually, I’m not going to fit in my clothes either. I’m going to be eating for two.” You got up to go behind his chair, and you kissed him on the top of his head.

“What do you mean?” Bless his heart. He had no idea what was coming. You put your arms around him and leaned down to whisper in his ear: “We’re going to have a baby.”

“¡Dios mios, princesa!” He got up from his chair and immediately pulled you in his arms. “Is this for real? I’m going to be a father?” The joy in his eyes was too much for you.

With tears in your eyes, you answered: “Yes, my love. You’re going to be a father. In fact, you’re going to be the greatest father there ever was.” He lifted you off the ground and made you spin in your dining room.

He put you down and gave you a big kiss full of love. “How did this happen?” He patted your stomach.

You smirked. “Well, I know how it happened.” You put on your best imitation of Fernando: “Please, princesa. Can I put a baby in you? I want to get you pregnant so bad, princesa.” He laughed at your poor attempt at a Spanish accent.

“I remember now.” You laughed, and he wiped your smirk and your tears away with a kiss. “You’ve made my dreams come true, mi amor. I didn’t think it was possible, but I love you even more now.” He hugged you tightly.

“I love you too, baby. I hope you’ll still love me when I ask you to go buy my pregnancy craving a two AM.” Fernando chuckled and tenderly brushed your hair with his finger.

“Lucky you, princesa. I drive fast. You won’t have to wait long for your food. And it will only make me love you more.”

You made a mental note to buy a cookbook about baby food.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

You and Fernando, like any other new parents, stared in adoration at the crib in which your baby boy was sleeping. Although it was hard to believe, your son was now nearly a year old.

“He looks so much like you. I’m kind of insulted. I carried him for nine months!” You whispered at your husband. He laughed quietly.

“Let’s hope he has your brain, then. With your intelligence and my looks, he is sure to make a great F1 driver. My legacy will be secured!” You lightly smacked him on the arm.

“I’m never letting him go in an F1 car ever! I’m already on my knees praying that you be safe at every race, I’m not signing up for another 20 years of that!” You whispered-shouted at Fernando. You were kidding, but also not.

“It must be very hard, since I also make you go on your knees after every race and more.” He chuckled at his own joke. You smacked him again, harder this time. Forget the lightly. He continued: “Are you going to be very mad if I tell you that I have already bought him a kart?” Your eyes were big as saucers.

“Fernando!” You shouted a little too loud for your liking. Your son babbled in his sleep. “He’s not even one year old yet!” He faked looking sheepish, but really, he was proud of his scheming. You were not actually mad either, you were only pretending to toy with him. He grabbed your hands and kissed you. All his wrongdoing (that was not actually wrong) was suddenly forgiven.

“I’m sorry, princesa. But you can’t blame me for wanting to show him what I do.” You fake-pouted at him, but that did not last long because he looked too adorable.

“Alright, I get it. You will have to buy a second one, though.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Another one? Why, princesa? Are you planning on starting karting soon?” You put his hands on your stomach. Just like the first time, you were full of nerves, but also happiness. You cupped his face with your hands.

“No, my love. But the baby in my belly might.” You flashed your biggest smile at him. It was true that pregnancy made you glow because you lit up the whole darkened room.

“What?!” He shouted, and that effectively woke up your son from his sleep. Laughing, you picked him up from his crib.

“You’re going to be a big brother!” you exclaimed to your son, who giggled in return. Fernando was still in shock. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his disbelief. Finally, he returned to his senses.

“Princesa! I’m going to be a father!” He pulled you and your baby in a big hug. You laughed against his shoulder, as tears of joys were running your cheeks.

“You already are, my love. You are the greatest father there ever was.”

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

Fernando was an extraordinary father. He was so good to you and your two sons, who were now celebrities around the paddock. Alonso 1 and Alonso 2, they were called. When your husband approached you with the idea of having another baby, it was a no-brainer. How could you ever say no to the opportunity to give an already amazing father a chance to be an even better one?

And you loved being a mother. You loved cooking for your family and seeing them all enjoy it together at the dinner table. After you made a particularly good tiramisu, you got pregnant for the third time. Turns out that your tiramisu was so good that it made you get pregnant with twins.

That’s how you ended up walking around the paddock, pregnant with twin girls. Actually, it was more of a waddle than a walk. Your belly was huge, and you were holding your youngest son in your arms while the oldest tugged on your dress to keep you close.

“Princesa, what are you doing? You should be sitting down!” Fernando trailed down after you and immediately took your youngest in his arms, which made the people around you laugh. He really was the cliché of the overprotective father and husband, but it was cute. Still, you rolled your eyes at him. It was the children he was supposed to scold, not his wife!

“Fernando, I’m fine. I don’t want to sit down, it’s all I do these days. The girls and I, we want to have to have some fun.” You pointed to your belly, full of two little girls.

He gave you a kiss and he put his hand that was not holding your son to your belly. “I’m glad you’re here, princesa, but maybe use the stroller next time, yes? And you, tete, you were supposed to be watching your momma!” Your youngest son pouted at his dad and laughed when Fernando ruffled his hair.

“There’s just so many people here, I can’t pass with the stroller,” you whined, pointing to everyone around. Fernando raised an eyebrow at you.

“No, we can’t have that, can we, princesa? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have all the space you need, mi amor. All the best for my family.” He gave you a small slap on your ass and put his hand around your waist. He led you so confidently around the paddock that honestly it was a turn on.

You blushed and whispered to his ear so your children could not hear: “You’re making me feel hot. Maybe I’ll give you triplets next time, huh?” He gave a you a devilish grin while you made your way around, you holding your oldest son’s hand and your other hand resting on your full belly while Fernando had an arm around your waist and your youngest in the other.

Move over, everyone. The Alonsos are here.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

You were resting on the sand of the private beach attached to your villa in Spain. Your twin girls were napping peacefully next to you, in the shade. You were trying to imitate them, but falling asleep next to the view you had was impossible.

Fernando was playing in the water with your two boys. Shirtless, the sun of his home country made him shine. Every time you had his back in your sight, you swooned at his tattoo. You wanted to fill it with kisses. It should be illegal to look this good.

Him playing with your children shouldn’t be that attractive, but being a father really did make him glow. His eyes lit up with joy when he was around his family.

“Boys, come here, you need to reapply sunscreen!” You shouted at the three most important men of your life. They all came running to you. You had trained your husband and children well, apparently.

“How are my girls doing?” Fernando leaned down and kissed you. You started to apply sunscreen on one boy while your husband did the same for your other son.

“They are doing well, my love. You’re giving me quite the show.” He smirked at you.

“You like the view, princesa?” He played cocky and showed off his body. You chuckled. What a show off. Thank God he was a show off.

It was his turn to get the sunscreen. Your boys played in the sand near their baby sisters. “Absolutely, baby. I’m hot all over, and it’s not because of the sun,” you answered while putting sunscreen on his back. He laughed, but you could tell he was pleased at your words.

“Oh really?” Fernando raised an eyebrow at you. You nodded, acting innocently.

“Yeah, baby. In fact, I kind of want you to put a baby in me right now.” His eyes got big, but he quickly came back to earth.

He threw you over his shoulder and spun you around. You were laughing hysterically. He exclaimed to your boys and your girls who were now awake because of the noise: “Do you hear that? Mamma wants another baby! You’re going to have another brother or sister!” His voice was full of joy. Your children were all laughing and screaming, clearly amused by the fact that mommy was on daddy’s shoulder.

Fernando untied the string around your neck holding your swimsuit top in place and put you down, laughing. “Fernando!” you yelled as you tried holding your top. He was already gone, too busy chasing your boys on the beach. The twins were doing a mix of laughing and cute baby noises. In revenge, you flashed your husband, to which he replied with a wink.

Oh yeah, you were getting that fifth baby. Tonight.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

The room was silent, except for the faint sound of the heart monitor in the hospital room.

“Oh Fernando, he’s so perfect. I think we’ve outdone ourselves.” Fernando laughed softly. You were sitting against his back on the hospital bed, holding your newborn son.

“Princesa, you say this every single time.” You smiled at him.

“But it’s true, my love. All of our children are perfect. We are so lucky.” He kissed the top of your head.

“Yes, we are. I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you too.” At the same moment, your four other children came running into the room, all whispering-shouting when they saw their newest brother.

The love in this room could be observed from a fifty miles radius. Fernando looked around at the room, and he nearly choked up. A few years ago, he had nearly given up on his dream of having his own family, yet here he was, husband to a perfect wife and father to wonderful kids.

After a few minutes, your kids left to go back home with Fernando’s parents. You were perfectly happy, yet something was wrong, but neither of you wanted to mention it first.

Fernando finally broke up the silence: “You know, mi amor, I don’t really like odd numbers…” He softly brushed your hair with his fingers while you did the same to your baby boy.

“Me neither, baby!” you exclaimed, happy to see he was thinking the same thing as you. “And, you know, I think it’s not fair if we don’t give this precious little baby a friend! We would be failing as parents.” He laughed and added to your comment: “Oh yes, definitely. We would be bad parents. Horrible, even.” You nodded solemnly.

“Absolutely, baby.” He kissed your shoulder. “What’s one more?”

Yeah, what’s one more?

This man wanted children? He would be getting them.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜

Fernando had just done really well in a race, even landing a place on the podium. You and your six kids were all cheering for him, all dressed up in his merch. He waved at you from the podium, and all your kids started jumping and screaming for their father. You blew your husband a kiss, and he felt as if he had just won another championship.

“A question for Alonso. You had a great performance today, even landing on the podium. Tell us, Fernando. What made you perform so well today? Is it the changes on the car?” asked and interviewer during the post-race interview.

“The car is good, yes, but I got on the podium today because of my family, definitely. My wife and my children are always the reason why I succeed.” Fernando winked at you, and everyone in the room laughed as you turned beet red. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world, and you were.

Okay, another baby wouldn’t be so bad, right?

[naturesapphic]

Hi could I request a Billie x reader where Billie and reader are cooking in the kitchen and it ends with reader being bent over the kitchen counter if you get me 🤭

Dinner ruined

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, fingering

A/n: y’all are some horny motherfuckers LMAO there’s another request for smut for Billie but come on where caregiver Billie or some fluff 😭 but I hope y’all still enjoy anyway

You were standing at the stove cooking you and your girlfriend Billie dinner. She was beside you cutting up some onions and tofu while you were stirring the broth for her famous vegan noodle soup. She was wearing her spaghetti strap blue tank top with a jacket on while you had cute little flowy dress on. You kept glancing at one another, your eyes being fixed on your beautiful girlfriend and her eyes have been fixed on you as well.

She finished cutting and puts them in the broth as you kept stirring and adding stuff to it. Billie went behind you and put her hands on your waist, feeling your body up and down. She moved some of your hair away from your neck and leaned down to leave some kisses. “M-mmm…fuck…b-Billie baby…what are you doing…”. You gasp out as Billie keeps leaving kisses on your exposed neck. “Mmm…nothing…you just look so pretty and cute right now….” She said as her hands glided up to your breast and started massaging them gently making you moan out in pleasure.

You tried to keep working on the food but then Billie out of no where spun you around to face her and captured your lips with hers. You both moan into the kiss and she leads you to the counter and your back hits it. She spins you around again and bends you over so your chest is squished by the counter top. Billie pulls up your dress and pulls down your panties. “Fuck. Look how wet you are babygirl. Is this all for me?” She asked and you bit your lip. “A-all for you b-bils…” you say shakily as she slaps your ass hard, the echo going through the whole house and you let out a loud moan at the pain and pleasure it gave you.

“That’s not my name.” She stated. “S-sorry mommy…”. You whimpered out and she rubs the spot she smacked you at. Billie goes down and uses her index finger and middle finger to run through your soaked folds. “So wet…”. She whispered to herself as she slides her fingers in into your pulsating hole. You let out a strangled moan and grip the edges of the counter for leverage. “Oh my gosh! M-mommy!” You moan out as Billie starts to pound into you with her fingers. “You feel so good mamas…” she whispered. Two fingers wasnt enough so she added another one. Your mouth was agape and Billie was grunting as her fingers were starting to cramp up but she just wanted to get you off ( ;) ).

She added a fourth finger and by now she was knuckles deep inside of your tight pussy. “So fucking tight. Swallowing my fingers so good baby…” she grunted and soon your eyes rolled to the back of your head while your legs were shaking as you were experiencing a hard orgasm. One that made you see stars and made you forget your name. Billie helped you through your intense orgasm and slowly pulled her fingers out of you, cum dripping out of your pussy. Billie licked her lips and stuck her four fingers in her mouth, sucking all of the cum off. You panted and slowly sat up, chest and legs sore from the orgasm and from being pressed against the counter but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/n: I hope this is what you wanted anon and I hope you enjoy and I hope the rest of y’all enjoy it too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)