#and all of the games had different rules that you had to pay attention to or youd die. especially for ones with creatures in them

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

i keep having weird horror game nightmares

[helen-with-an-a]

You always have an excuse

Hi. So this is a request and I really liked the idea. Hopefully, I did it justice. I hope you enjoy

Barca Femeni x reader

Description: R always has excuses but eventually slips up.

Word Count: 3.8k

Shit. Shit. Shit. You were late. You were so late. But it wasn’t your fault; indeed, honestly, it wasn’t your fault. Your parents were not the greatest at being parents. They had you when they were just 16 and far too young to be having children. Sure, they paid for your football stuff and gave you a lot of what you asked for, but it was to keep you quiet and out of the house. You didn’t mind too much. It was easier when you only had to look out for yourself, never telling your parents where or who you were with. You always had a range of excuses ready for anyone who asked – lying and telling your friend’s parents that someone else would be taking you home, saying your mum was just around the corner, she had work so couldn’t come to your matches. It was fine. You knew nothing different.

You signed for La Masia when you were 10. The training was intense, but you loved it. You thrived under the pressure, quickly working your way up the ranks. Your debut for the first team happened shortly before your 16th birthday. You had never felt prouder of yourself.

“And here we have it. At just 15 years old, Y/F/N Y/S/N, making her debut for FC Barcelona Femeni. She’s homegrown, working her way up La Masia ranks. She is definitely a future star.” The commentator said as you made your way onto the pitch. This is what you have been dreaming of since you discovered football. This was the dream that only some people achieved. And you were one of them. A professional footballer. Your life’s goal was achieved.

The game was an easy win. The other team was fighting a relegation battle, as Barca slipped 10 goals past their keeper.

“Vamos,” Patri shouted as she shook you by the shoulders. “A debut and a brace. Is that a Ballon d’Or I see in your future?” You laughed as she wrapped you in a fierce hug.

“Neña, what a performance, hey?” Mapi called as Alexia affectionately hit the back of your head.

“Where’s your Mamí? I’m sure she wants to see you after that performance.” You didn’t even bat an eyelid as you smiled sweetly at Marta

“Oh, she said we’d meet outside by the main gates – saves us from trying to find each other on the pitch and in the crowd.” You waved at the chaos surrounding you. You knew your mother was nowhere near the football stadium – you doubted she even knew you had a football match, let alone your senior debut. It was easy to slip away from the changing rooms; you had significant practice doing it most of your life.

And now you were running so, so late. You had woken up on time, but the food in the house looked a little off, so you rushed to get something from the bakery on your way to the bus stop. But the line was bigger than anticipated, so you were rushing to catch the bus. A man walking in the other direction wasn’t paying attention and crashed into you, causing you to drop your stuff and spill hot coffee all over yourself. That had disrupted your flow, and you missed the bus, having to wait 5 minutes for the next one, which wasn’t a big deal. However, the metro system was delayed. And now you were 10 minutes behind, and then the bus you were supposed to catch from the metro station to the training centre never showed up, so you had to catch an alternative one, making you 30 minutes late. You had texted Jona to tell you you were running late but you knew you had laps waiting for you when you actually got there. You arrived at the pitch hot, sweaty, and tired. This was not an ideal start to the morning.

It was a known ‘Alexia Rule’ that every minute late to practice without a reasonable excuse was a lap. As you arrived at the huddle, one boot on, one still in your hand and your shirt stained with coffee, you could tell she was unimpressed. With all your rushing, you had forgotten to think of an excuse. You didn’t want to tell her the real reason; you had a feeling ‘Oh, sorry Alexia, I’m late because my parents are really shitty, forget they have a kid sometimes, and they haven’t been home in over a week, and the food in the fridge looked a little funky’ would not go down too well. She arched an eyebrow at you.

“Um …” You floundered, thinking about what to say. You could tell her the semi-truth that the metro was delayed and you had missed the buses, but they thought you got dropped off at the top of the road by your dad on the way to work. You could tell them there was traffic, but they all drove, so they knew you were lying.

“You have 30 laps to run at the end of training,” Alexia had a stern voice that you knew meant she was serious. 30 laps? That was basically 10k. Your eyes widened to comically sized proportions. 45 minutes of running around in a circle … after training? She was trying to kill you; you were convinced of it.

“You can’t be serious?” You gawked at her. Her other eyebrow rose to join the other one.

“Deadly.” She said icily and walked away.

Holy fuck. You were really, royally fucked this time. You were so dead. You had to miss training. But again, it hadn’t been your fault. The boiler had broken in your house, which wasn’t a big deal – it was late spring in Barcelona, and you didn’t need heating. But you did need the hot water. You had tried to ask your parents to stay home whilst someone fixed it, knowing that you had training and they could definitely work from home for a day. They had dismissed you with a flippant wave of their hands and continued what they were doing. You phoned the company, asking them to come and fix it as soon as possible. But, as expected, they told you they would be there before lunch, which was the best they could offer. It was now 2.30pm, and there was no sign of them. You had texted Jona this morning, offering a weak excuse of feeling a little rough. You hadn’t expected him to tell Alexia that you were feeling bad, and it sounded like you were home alone.

The knock on the door had you running towards it – thinking it was the person coming to fix the boiler. “Gracias, Gracias. Es el …” You rushed the explanation, not realising that it was not a plumber but rather your irate captain. You froze as you looked up. Shit.

“You look fine, neña. You don’t look like you’ve … what was it? Ah, yes, ‘picked up a little something’.” She was far too calm. You could see her anger bubbling under the surface, though.

“Ale, I-” you tried to explain.

“No, no quiero escucharlo,” she cut you off, a hand raising to stop you. “You lied. You skipped training. Was it worth it? Was it so much more important than training?” She hadn’t bothered to come into the house, standing at your front door, a bag of things meant to help you feel better in her hand. “Here,” she shoved it at you. “You’re on the bench until you can prove that you want to be a part of Barcelona Femeni.” And with that, she stormed off.

Tears welled in your eyes. She hadn’t let you explain … but what could you say? ‘Sorry, Ale, my parents are arseholes and don’t realise that I have a life and a job as well’? ‘Sorry, Ale, I had to wait for the plumber to come and fix our heating and hot water, and no, my parents – the adults in the house – couldn’t do it because they think their time is so much more important than mine’? ‘Sorry, Ale, I’m currently trying to raise myself, and whilst I’m usually ok at it, sometimes I fuck up’? You couldn’t say those things to her. You couldn’t tell her how tough your life could be sometimes … most of the time. You couldn’t tell her that your parents don’t even know you have a game, let alone watch it or attend it. You couldn’t tell her you often wake up in an empty house for weeks because your parents jetted off somewhere again. You couldn’t tell her that you doubt your parents could even tell you your full name and birthday.

She thought you didn’t want to be a part of Barca. Barca was your saving grace. Barca was the only thing that got you out of bed. The friendships you made were the closest thing to a normal family you had. Jana, Vicky, Martina, Patri, Claudia, Bruna, Esmee, Salma … they were your crazy cousins, always making you laugh and willing to go along with your mad ideas. Ona, Aitana, Lucy, Cata, Mapi … they were your big sisters, always protecting you on and off the pitch and lightly teasing you. Ingrid, Caro, Keira, Mariona, Frido … they were the calming aunts that helped you through any predicament. Marta, Paños, Irene … Alexia … they were your motherly figures, the people you could always rely on to love you regardless of what else was happening in your life. Did they think you didn’t want to be there? Barcelona was the single most greatest thing that had ever happened to you.

You looked at the bag Alexia had shoved at you. It was full of healthy smoothies, nutritious snacks, and your favourite chocolates. You could even see a soft teddy instructing you to ‘Get Well Soon’. It made you sob even harder. Eventually, you moved to the sofa. Once you started crying, you couldn’t stop. You cried over everything – disappointing Alexia, having no hot water, being benched, your parents' dislike of you, your seeming lack of support system, how you appeared to fuck up the one good thing in your life. You cried yourself to sleep on the sofa, clutching the bag to your chest and feeling so incredibly sorry for both you and the girls you had failed.

The next morning, you looked horrific – puffy, red eyes, dishevelled hair, blotchy skin. You didn’t even try to hide it as you made your way to the bus stop, ignoring the weird looks thrown your way. You were in a daze as you walked through the metro system and onto the second bus, forgetting to hurry down the side alleys instead of the main road. You didn’t see Ingrid’s car as it drove past you, a concerned Mapi, Ingrid, Ona, and Lucy in it.

“Era que?” Mapi asked, pointing over her shoulder.

“Y/N? Sí, fue” Ona nodded.

“Why, though? She said she gets dropped off by her dad on his way to work.” Ingrid was just as perplexed. You seemed to know exactly where you were going and had stepped off the bus with an ease only known to someone who took the same route every day.

“Maybe it was a one-off? He couldn’t take her today, so she had to get the bus? Although I don’t know why she wouldn’t just ask one of us – she lives on most of our routes to work.” Lucy pondered, all of them confused over you.

“Hey,” Ingrid said as you walked into the changing rooms. You didn’t even smile at her, just nodding and moving to your cubby. “Um … so, how come you were on the bus?” You froze. How did she know you got the bus?

“It’s just that we saw you as we were driving in. If you needed a lift, you could’ve just asked; you know we’d all be more than happy to —” Ona explained.

“Yeh, my d-dad only told me this morning that he couldn’t take me the whole way, so … he dropped me off near the metro, and I just got the bus from there,” you lied, rushing to gather your boots and head to the pitch. It was a blatant lie. Your voice was too high, and your hands shook slightly as you tried to devise a realistic excuse.

“Todas sabemos que era una mentira, verdad?” Mapi looked around as the door swung shut.

The following month in training was awkward, to say the least. After your slip-up with the bus, you made sure to take the earlier trains, getting to training before most people had even left their beds. You figured you’d use the time to prove to Alexia and the others that you wanted to be there. You were still benched, but your name was still on the game day sheet, so you liked to believe they weren’t thinking of selling you or cancelling your contract after the season ended. The issue was getting home. If you stayed late, you were often questioned, but if you were seen walking out of the car park, you were also questioned. You really needed to learn how to drive ... quickly.

Eventually, Jona could no longer justify you sitting on the bench. Barca had the Champions League semi-finals coming up, and everyone noted your absence on the pitch.

“Y/N, you will be playing the next match. You’re going to be a sub around 60 or 70 minutes.” It was a short announcement, but you couldn’t help your heart soar. Did this mean they finally believed you when you said that Barca was the best thing that happened to you? Alexia still hadn’t looked at you since That Day, but she was no longer actively seething, which you took as a win. But now you would be playing in the home leg of the Champions League semi-finals. You were nervous, but not because of the match; you were on a 0 – 3 aggregate, and you were going to be playing at Camp Nou – it was an almost guaranteed win –but because you knew the team would be more suspicious of your lack of parents.

You decided to do what you always did – never look to the crowd, do a lap of the stadium for the fans, hurry back into the changing rooms, and slip away. Simple. Easy. You had been doing it all your life. But you hadn’t accounted for how attentive the team would be. They watched you wearily from a distance, concerned when you made no effort to look to the friends and family section during warm-ups or after the match when everyone usually went to see their loved ones. You stayed back, signing more things for fans, and then headed straight to the tunnel. After the celebration in the changing rooms, you gathered your things and disappeared before anyone could bring them up. You had mastered the art of vanishing like a ghost after matches.

But now it was the final. It was obviously an away game, but everyone’s family came. Even the coaching staff brought their loved ones. Not you, though. Your parents hadn’t known you’d left the country, let alone understood that you were playing in the most prestigious match in Europe for clubs. You were in the Starting XI, but you weren’t nervous. You knew you could win this match; this Champions title was yours for the taking. You didn’t realise that the fact that you had no family would be exposed the minute the final whistle went.

You played the full 90 minutes and an extra 5 for injury time. You were exhausted, but that didn’t matter as soon as the clock ran out. You had done it. Champions of Europe. The screams and shouts were so loud it hurt your ears, but you didn’t care. You felt unstoppable.

“Vamos, pequeña. Donde esta tu mamí? Quiero finalmente conocer a la mujer a la que debemos agradecer por regalarle al mundo contigo.” Mapi said as you sat on the grass, your medal around your neck.

“Más tarde. I just want to sit here and soak this all in.” You waved her away. She took you at your word but made meaningful eyes at Alexia, having an unspoken conversation as you moved away. Alexia watched as you leaned back, resting on your arms, legs outstretched, and eyes shut – head tilted to feel the sun on your skin. She waited for 10 minutes, watching you make no effort to see your family. It was the first thing she had done after the trophy celebration. She had run straight to her mother and sister, thanking them profusely for all their sacrifices and expressing so much gratitude towards them – throwing her sweaty body at them and tackling them into long, tight hugs.

“Do you want to see your family now?” It was the first non-football-related words she’d said to you in well over a month.

“No, I’m ok. I’ll see them later,” you dismissed her quickly.

“Do you know where they are? We could bring them down onto the pitch if you don’t want to stand up.” She wasn’t letting this go. She had an inkling that she hoped was wrong.

“It’s alright, Ale. Honestly. I’m fine sitting here, soaking this all up by myself.” You hadn’t opened your eyes, so you had assumed from the quietness she had moved away. “It’s not like you’d find them anyway,” you whispered as an unwanted tear escaped you.

“Qué quieres decir, cariño?” Your eyes snapped open, coming face to face with Alexia, Ona and Keira. You sat up, trying to hide your face.

“Oh, noth-”

“No me mientas. Dónde están tu mamí y papí?” Alexia asked sternly. You misunderstood her, thinking she was angry at you. You shook your head, refusing to answer.

“Neña, are your parents here?” Ona asked quietly, coming to sit next to you. You took a deep breath.

“No. They aren’t.”

“Do you want to phone them?” Keira suggested, hoping that it was just because they couldn’t take time away from work to attend in person. She also sat down, gesturing her phone to you as an invitation to use it. You took another deep breath.

“I don’t think they even know I had a football match, let alone a Champions League final.” Another tear slipped down your cheek. Alexia sat in front of you, reaching for your hands.

“Qué quieres decir?” She asked again, thumbs rubbing gently over the backs of your hands.

“My parents … I don’t really know how to say it,” you paused, Ona gently rubbing your back comfortingly. “My parents don’t really … parent?” You chuckled lightly.

“They don’t support you?” Keira asked, her hand resting on your knee.

“They don’t care enough. They leave for weeks on end without telling me. I get food and stuff like that on my own. I’m basically raising myself at this point. I don’t think they know I have a contract with Barca. I doubt they even know I play football. They just let me do whatever I wanted as long as I was out of the house, not causing trouble and quiet; they didn’t care. They’re lucky I haven’t turned into a criminal or something.” You tried to add a joke to lighten the mood.

“But you said you meet up with your parents after home matches,” Ona couldn’t imagine achieving half the things she did without her family supporting her from the sidelines.

“And you told us your dad drops you off every morning on the way to work,” Keira added, equally disbelieving – her parents were her biggest fans.

“Yeh, I lied. I just go home after matches. And I get the metro to training.”

“But training is nowhere near the metro, and you don’t live near a metro station either.” She still didn’t want to consider what you were saying to be true.

You explained, “I get a bus from mine to the metro and then a bus from the metro to training.”

“That’s why you were getting off the bus that day when we saw you,” Ona realised. She hadn’t trusted your story but had considered no other possibilities.

“That’s why you're late to training sometimes? Because of the buses and trains?” Alexia asked, her hands never leaving yours.

“Yeh.” You looked down, ashamed of your situation and lying to them.

“And that day when you missed training. You weren’t sick. What happened?”

“I … um … the boiler broke, so I had to wait for someone to come fix it. Which they never did, by the way. I had to phone some random company that massively overcharged me, and the water definitely doesn’t get as hot as it used to.” You babbled nervously. “It wasn’t because I don’t want to be at Barca. It’s the only thing that keeps me going, knowing that I have you guys looking out for me. It makes everything else seem not as bad,” you whispered, needing them to know just how important Barca was to you. You looked around. Patri and Pina tried to do the perfect chest bump as Jana and Bruna filmed. Lucy was chasing her niece and nephew. Ingrid and Mapi were with Ingrid’s parents, smiling widely as they talked. Marta and Caro were sat off to one side, talking quietly. You could see the others dotted around the stadium, talking to fans, speaking to parents, and enjoying the support.

“Cariño, I am so sorry,” Alexia implored. I shouted at you and benched you. I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t believe you took Barca seriously.”

“Why didn’t you tell us, neña?” Ona asked.

“We only want what’s best for you, kid,” Keira added.

“Um … I don’t really know. It doesn’t really matter. It’s been like this my whole life, so…”

“Cariño. It does matter. But we know now, and that’s all that matters, sí?” Alexia stood up, dragging you with her. “Let’s go see my family. Mi Mamí has been asking to meet you for ages. And before you say no, she already has plans for you to come round for dinner one night. Y en secreto, ella siempre quiso una tercera hija.” She said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as Ona took your hand.

“Oh, Eli will have to fight my Mama on that one, Ale. She always wanted a goal-scoring daughter.”

“Well, my mum says you are more than welcome to stay at her house if you ever visit the UK as long as you cook her paella.” Keira smiled.

Maybe your biological family was shite, but your found one certainly wasn't.

I hope you liked it <3

[wandasaura]

— THE QUIET GAME

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[norrisleclercf1]

For the Carlos idea: watching football with Carlos, either Real Madrid or the Spanish national team and him noticing you’re a little lost with what’s happening so he explains it, answering any and all questions you have, much to the amusement of Carlos’ friends because it is obvious the man is absolutely besotted with you

A/N: A new level of accuracy is looking up which team and learning it's Real Madrid also I'm sticking to explaining football as little as possible so I don't butcher this sport

Sitting on the couch, with Carlos's arm around you, you'd like to say you understood the sport on the TV, but in all fairness, you barely understood Formula 1 and you grew up on the sport. Carlos always tried his best to explain it, but there were different rules and even those rules had rules.

He tried to explain the offsides rule to you once, and you found it ridiculous that one inch off was considered offsides and you just giggled finding it hard to explain this. Carlos would always smile but would still explain it to you. He friends would tease him, but he'd ignore it and still take the time to explain.

Yet another game of Real Madrid was on, you were reading a book, not really paying attention to it, but not even to game. Carlos was playing with your hair and would sometimes explain the basics but you'd just smile. His friends and even family were over and were all invested in the game.

When the cheering got distracting you put your book down and snuggle into Carlos who smiles and takes a sip of his beer. He'd cheer but noticed your confusion on one of the plays.

"The ball was kicked past the goal, not the sides and went out, so it's considered a corner kick, not a throw." You hum and run it through your mind making sense of it in your own way. "So, if it goes past the goal, but not in, it's considered a corner kick not a throw. Because with the throw it needs to go off on the sides?" You ask, and you notice his friends are listening.

Carlos smiles brightly and leans down, kissing you gently and hums. "Yes, amor, that's correct. See you're slowly learning." Carlos was so happy you were starting to learn about the sport he loves so much. His friends giggle and start to make kissy faces, even Senior was starting to join in on the teasing.

You laugh, but Carlos doesn't as he far to busy admiring your gorgeous laughter and how much he couldn't wait to marry you.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Cherry Bomb (pt. 2)

James Potter x f!reader, Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, oral (male receiving), oral (female receiving), switch james? brief fingering, heavy making out, i love this smut w my heart

summary: you proceed with the second part of your plan. james potter.

word count: 2.4k

a/n: i’m so bad at writing summaries i’m sorry, i promise it’s worth it lol. i suppose this could be a stand off but i like reading them in order. hope you enjoy :) also ps if there’s any mistakes i’m sorry grammarly told me it was fine but i don’t fully trust that hoe smh

~~~

James Potter was a different story. He thought of himself as a gentleman though not many seventeen-year-olds were gentlemen. He thought this solely because he was nothing like his best mate. He had to at least know a girl's name before taking her to bed. Though, he typically liked to know a bit more than just that. So, in order to shag James Potter, one must abide by a few more rules than with dear Sirius Black. One, she must be friendly. Two, she must have some knowledge of quidditch. Three, she must be willing to stroke his massive ego despite how humiliating it may be. And four, the most important rule, she must be ready to play along with his games. Because James Potter was a chaser in all senses. And oh, how he loved a good chase.

~~~

You peak around the corner of one of the hallways, a bit out of breath. You just ran down a few flights of stairs to get here. For a few seconds you search the hallway, then he appears. He’s alone. Good.

It’s been two weeks since your night with Sirius, and it hasn’t been easy. You regret your whole show of making him remember your name, it’s caused more harm than good. But it felt good in the moment, it felt more than good. Shagging Sirius all together became your best shag the second he pressed you against the wall and kissed you till you were out of breath. You regret picking him first. In retrospect though, you had no idea how much he’d care for a second time. He’s always been known as a one-nighter. It’s been hard having to deny him, and it’s been hard convincing him that he has you mistaken for another girl. But you’ve managed.

You feel bad about it, but you try not to pay it much mind as the second part of your plan is about to begin.

You clutch your books to your chest and begin to walk down the hallway, your face down. You know what his shoes look like. So, when they begin to come closer you loosen your grip on your books and shift your body ever so slightly so that you’re in his way. Inevitably, the two of you bump into each other, and your books quickly fall to the floor.

“Shit,” you say as you fall to your knees to start gathering your things.

“Sorry love, didn’t see you there. Let me help,” he replies, crouching down in front of you.

You look at him. “Oh, it’s alright, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Me either.” He laughs, handing you one of your papers. His eyes linger on yours. “I think I know you.”

“I doubt it.”

“No, I do. You’re the girl my mate Sirius thinks he shagged.”

You look away, pretending to be flustered. “I don’t know why he’s so set on me. I mean, I was at that party, but I went back to my dorm with my friend. And I think I’d remember a night with him you know, with his reputation.”

“Yeah, I dunno, he tends to get hammered and forget a lot,” he says. You look back at him and watch as he runs one of his hands through his dark curls. A habit of his. “I’m sure he’ll stop bothering you soon enough.”

“Yes, when the next girl is in his bed,” you reply. The two of you share a laugh and you pick up your last paper. You hold them close to your chest and stand, he follows. “Well thanks for helping, you’re very kind.”

He smiles that brilliant smile of his. “It’s only right.”

You return the smile. “I’ve got to get to class thanks again James.”

“You know my name? Are you one of my adoring fans?”

He’s smirking now, his arms folded across his chest. His ego is taking over. Perfect.

You shyly look down for a few seconds before meeting his eyes again. “Isn’t everyone a fan of the famous chaser from Gryffindor?”

“You’d be surprised how many aren’t.”

“Well, that lot must simply consist of fools.” You look down at your watch. “Seems I’m going to be a bit late to history of magic. ‘Suppose it’s alright, I don’t care for it much anyway. But I best be going, wouldn’t want to keep you from your class.”

“That’s quite kind of you y/n,” he says.

You raise a brow. “Oh? Do you happen to be one of my adoring fans?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps Sirius has been talking our ears off about you.”

“I think I like the first answer better.”

He smirks. “I see. It was nice running into you then. Literally.”

“Yes, it was.” You step past him, your eyes lingering on him for a few more seconds. “Goodbye then James.”

“Goodbye y/n.”

You leave fast with a smile on your face.

Phase one is complete.

~~~

For the next two weeks, you have more of those run ins with James. Each time having a different reaction. Some end in a sweet goodbye, some end with you barely acknowledging him at all, and some end in a quick walk through the halls together. You know how it messes with his head. One day you’re a girl who strokes his ego with flattering compliments, and another day you brush past him as if he doesn’t exist. By the sixth encounter, you relish in the knowledge that he’s starting to bump into you. Not the other way around.

“I’m starting to get Sirius. I suppose he wishes it was you that he shagged.”

The two of you are walking alone, not another person is in the hall. You look up at him, your cheeks flushing when you find him already looking down at you. He runs his hand through his hair. You hate how it makes your stomach fill with butterflies. You turn your head away.

“I don’t know why he would wish that with me.”

“I could name a few reasons,” he says.

You’ve stopped walking at this point. You turn your body to face him, another shy smile on your face. James Potter is such a charmer. You’ve known this. Yet his words affect you as if you have no idea about his reputation of being a flirt.

This is bad, you think.

It’s been hard enough resisting the urge to take Sirius up on another night together, even harder keeping up the lie that it never happened. You should stop this before it gets any worse, you know that. However, from the look James is giving you, you know you won't be able to stop this no matter how hard you try.

“Yeah?” You eventually challenge. “What reasons might those be Mr. Potter?”

“For starters, you are incredibly fit.” You watch his eyes trail up and down your body for a few seconds before returning to yours. “You’re kind, you’re funny, you make your interest noticeable, but you aren’t desperate.”

“I never claimed to be interested in you though, that’s an assumption.” You point out.

He takes a step closer to you, your breath catches in your throat. “So, if I were to, I dunno, snog you right now, you wouldn’t be pleased?”

Despite everything in your head screaming at you to snap out of it and push him away for the plan's sake, you can’t. No matter how hard you plan it seems that James Potter’s charm outdoes it. You don’t dare to move a muscle.

“I’m not sure, you might have to test and see.”

He takes another step. “I don’t want to be hexed though, if this experiment ends in the possibility of you not liking it.”

You take a step forward. The two of you are so close you can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Probability and possibility are different you know.”

He lifts one of his hands to your chin, tilting it up ever so slightly. “So, it’s a possibility that you’ll push me off and hex me, and it’s a probability that you’ll...”

“Snog you harder.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll take my chances then.”

He begins to lean his head down, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning yours up, meeting him halfway. The first few seconds are gentle. You like how soft his lips are, how you can taste the mint chap stick on them. But once that initial new feeling fades so does the gentleness.

Within a few short minutes you’re no longer standing in the middle of a hallway being kissed as if it were your first. Instead, you’re pressed against the wall in a broom closet, with your shirt half unbuttoned and James Potter’s hand up your skirt. Your head falls back against the stone as he sucks the sweet spot on your neck, his thumb rubbing perfect circles on your clit. You run your hands through his curls, they’re just as soft as you expected.

“James,” you moan.

“Yes love?”

You struggle to catch your breath. “I don’t- we can’t- fuck.”

“Hm?” He presses his thumb down harder; you feel your orgasm approaching. “You alright?”

“Yes- just don’t stop,” you reply.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Whatever you want.”

It’s safe to say, after that, phase two is completed.

~~~

Another week passes before you reach phase three. You don’t know why but playing James’s game is awfully fun. You know you’ve got him, and he knows he’s got you, but neither of you will say it. So, before anything can move too far in the closets, one of you stops it with an excuse and the other doesn’t question it. Part of you keeps it going because you want him to say the words, and another part of you keeps it going because deep down you don’t want it to be over yet.

But everything must end eventually.

The game's ending comes on a quiet Friday night. James catches you after dinner, dragging you off to one of the now familiar closets. He wastes no time, instantly pressing his lips to yours the second the door closes. There’s a desperation on his lips you haven’t felt before, it excites you. Naturally, you kiss him back, your hands moving up to his hair, his moving down to your waist.

Only a few seconds pass like this, then he pulls back. You can barely see his eyes through the darkness, but what you can see tells you something different is going to happen. He’s starving and you are more than happy to give him a taste.

“Can I have you y/n?” He whispers.

“Have me?”

He nods, his hands roaming up your sides. You shiver. “I need it, need you. Now.”

“You can have me, as long as you promise to keep this between us.” You place your hands on his shoulders and push him till his back hits one of the walls. “We wouldn’t want Sirius to be jealous that you actually got to shag me. You haven’t told any of them about this have you?”

“I have not, and I won’t. I swear,” he answers. “You can trust me.”

You smile and press a small kiss to his lips before lowering yourself to your knees. “I know I can. You’re a very sweet guy James and for that I’m going to show my appreciation.”

“You don’t have to-”

You begin to undo his belt. “I want to.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You unzip his trousers and pull away the fabric. You’re not surprised to find him already hard. You also aren’t surprised at how big he is. From the girls you’ve known to have shagged him, only good things came from them. You don’t waste any more time. You take him in your mouth and as far down your throat as possible. Blow jobs have never been your favorite activity, but from the sound that leaves James’s lips you know you’ll enjoy this specific one.

And you do.

You don’t know how much time passes by the time he’s cumming down your throat, but you do know you’ve enjoyed every moment. He moans your name louder than he should, his fingers tangled in your hair as he cums. Typically, you’d spit but this time you swallow. When you’re sure he’s done you pull back and rise, whipping your drool with the back of your hand.

James is breathless when he reaches for you. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you, nor to return the favor. Your legs shake as he buries his face between them, licking and sucking your clit at a perfect rhythm. It’s not long before it’s your turn to come undone due to his mouth. You have to hold yourself up on the wall as you finish, you practically see stars.

You pull him back up a minute later and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you once again and you savor the taste of yourself on his lips. It’s like a prize. And a memory you will forever cherish.

“Fuck me James,” you whisper eventually. “Like you mean it.”

“Your wish is my command,” he replies.

His hands fall to your thighs, and he lifts you up. You comply, wrapping your legs around his waist as he positions his hard again cock at your entrance. He enters you slowly, both of you savoring the feeling. He stretches you in an indescribable way that makes your toes curl. You hold him tight as he begins to fuck you.

Due to his active role in quidditch, his stamina is very built. He fucks you through two more orgasms before he even begins to show a sign of finishing. Tears role down your cheeks from the overstimulation, he asks you if you want to stop. You shake your head. He continues. Each thrust hits that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head. When he does eventually finish, he fills you up, his dick pulsing inside you.

He holds you tight after, his face tucked in your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbles, his breath ragged. “I think I’d like to keep you.”

In this moment, you forget about your plan, and you turn your head to press a soft kiss to his sweaty head.

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

~~~

As you lie in bed that night with your diary in hand, a fresh checkmark next to James’s name, you wonder how you’re supposed to go on to the next part. Too many emotions have gotten involved from you, James, and Sirius. You know adding another person into the mix will only cause further issues. However, you also did save the best for last. Intentionally. At least, you think so anyway. James and Sirius have given you times you didn’t know you could ever have.

But then your eyes trail over the last name again.

Remus Lupin.

The show must go on.

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 10)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 10 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

lando's up for your challenge and you seem to forget he's a lot smarter than people give him credit for

word count: 6.5k tags/warnings: this is not soft this is pure smut with some plot, go read part 9 if you missed it bc it was literally published 2 hours ago

2

It finally clicked for Lando what you meant when you turned around.

This may have been his game but there were no rules as to what you could or couldn’t do in his attempts to move further up your list. All he could do was watch as Carlos pulled you away from the bar, back to a booth with a table this time.

You waited until you were seated and had taken a sip of your drink before bringing up what was mentioned before.

“Can you explain something to me?” You asked, resting your elbow on the table to put your chin in your hand. Your top was low cut and Carlos wasn’t at all subtle when his gaze momentarily dropped. 

“I can try,” his hand found your thigh again, but this time it was under the table. He slowly dragged his fingers up and down your bare skin and you had to remind yourself that you quite literally asked for this. 

Sure, you and Carlos were naturally a little flirty on any given day, but he was taking it a step further now that he had permission to. 

“What did you mean earlier?” You glanced down at your drink. “About leaving the drivers speechless?”

A faint breath of laughter passed through his lips. He scratched his jaw as he spoke, “Does that really need explaining? Isn’t your ego already big enough?”

Unimpressed with his response, your expression fell flat. Carlos laughed again, giving your leg a squeeze.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t say you haven’t noticed half of the drivers paying you a little extra attention. I mean, what does Pierre call you?”

“Little Leclerc?” You guessed.

“No, that’s Lando’s nickname for you,” Carlos peered across the club towards where Lando still stood by the bar. He must have been watching because Carlos dipped his head closer to yours before continuing on. You admired the commitment to the bit. “Pierre calls you the Paddock Princess. Pretty sure Yuki calls you bijin-san-”

“Bijin-san?” You repeated, this being the first you heard of it. “What does that mean?”

“Miss. Beautiful, I think, in Japanese. I might be wrong, but it’s something along those lines,” Carlos explained. “Danny loved having you around. Even Max loses his train of thought when you walk by and he's been with Kelly for years. Regardless, Y/N, you have a presence in the paddock. You’re not just a sight for sore eyes, you’re a breath of fresh air, especially during a busy weekend. We love having you at the races, we all love you and-” he paused, you caught the way his jaw tightened. The hold he had on your leg seemed to loosen. “...honestly, there was this sort of unspoken rule that you were off limits because of Charles but it seems like Lando’s the only one brave enough to break that rule.”

This was genuinely all news to you. Every time you attended a race, your attention was on Charles. It was only recently that you started looking at Lando a little differently, but you had no idea that other drivers turned their heads when you walked down the paddock. 

Carlos included.

There were never any romantic feelings between you and Carlos, or so you thought. But the way he was looking at you now told you otherwise. He was thinking about how he missed his chance, how you were with Lando now. 

You had been oblivious to all of it.

And you kissed him. 

Which was incredibly disrespectful now that you thought about it. If you had known Carlos might have had feelings for you, you wouldn’t have crossed that line. You didn’t think about the damage it might have caused, like a potential strain in your relationship now that you were with Lando. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, but Carlos’ smile was an assurance that you didn’t need to apologise for anything. 

“Don’t be,” he said. “Lando makes you happy, that’s all any of us want for you.”

“No, but I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you admitted. The guilt was sitting in the pit of your stomach as you glanced at his hand on you before looking up again. “And I shouldn’t have asked for your help tonight, I’m sorry, Carlos. This was a bad idea. I don’t- I don’t want to lead you on.”

You shuffled away from him but Carlos was quick to grab your hand to stop you from leaving the booth. 

“You’re not leading me on,” Carlos stated firmly. He placed his hand under your chin to ensure your eyes were on him. The calluses on his fingers were rough but his touch itself was soft. “I know you’re with Lando, we all know at this point, but we’re still friends, Y/N. And as your friend, I don’t mind helping you make Lando squirm a little bit.”

“Are you sure?” You sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“The only one who’s uncomfortable right now is Lando.”

You finally looked across the club as Carlos dropped his hand to your leg once more. Lando was watching you intensely, eyebrows pinched together as he was clearly coming up with a plan of his own. Your gaze narrowed as you offered him a sort of half smile, one that challenged him to try and keep up.

 “He is going to hate me after tonight,” Carlos laughed, reaching for his drink to take a sip. 

“He knows it’s just a game,” you told Carlos. “He’s just mad it’s no longer a one-player game.”

“So what’s the plan?” 

You pulled your eyes off the very distressed Brit to look at Carlos again. He was up for anything, and you didn’t want to use his potential feelings for you to your advantage, but he was the one offering. 

“I need you to tell me if I cross a line,” you demanded. That had to be clear before you went any further.

“You won’t-”

“But if I do, Carlos, you have to tell me.”

With a reluctant sigh, Carlos nodded. You waited a second to see if he had anything else to add to this agreement, but he stayed quiet. When you looked down at the drinks, Carlos didn’t need any verbal instruction to finish what was left. You both grabbed hold of your glasses and downed the rest of your drunks. 

You slammed your empty glass on the table and grabbed hold of his wrist, practically pulling him out of the booth.

“Dance with me,” you said, not giving him any other option.

You dragged Carlos to the dance floor, but even then, you doubt it would have taken much coercion even if he didn’t want to accompany you. You had just placed your arms over his shoulders when he abruptly spun you around and pulled your hips back against him. 

The one drink you had wasn’t flowing through your bloodstream yet, but you didn’t need the liquid courage to let the music move you. The pulsating beat was enough for you to find a rhythm against Carlos on the crowded dance floor.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder as you dragged your hand upwards, linking it around his neck. Your fingers became tangled through his hair as his own hands explored the curves of your body. 

There was something so euphoric about dancing in a club. Stranger or not, the way your body melted in perfect harmony with someone else's was intimate, it was exhilarating, it was hot. Carlos held you tight against him, really taking your ‘pretend I’m someone you want to bring home’ instructions to another level. 

“He’s looking,” Carlos said, voice rough. as you sensually rubbed your backside over his jeans. 

Your eyes fluttered open for a second, just enough to see Lando gripping his drink so tight you wouldn’t have been surprised if it shattered in his grasp. A cunning smirk traced your lips as you sent a wink in his direction. 

And then he took off. He left the glass on the bartop. You followed him with your eyes as much as you could but Lando soon became lost in the crowd of club goers. 

You panicked for a second. Did you take it too far? 

Carlos sensed your sudden hesitation and he spun you back around to face him, his hand moving to cup your face. This time when his thumb traced over your lips, you knew it was no accident. He was still putting on a show, even if Lando wasn’t watching.

“Charles would kill us both if he saw us right now,” he said, his hand spreading across your back to hold you against his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, you could feel each breath he took hit your face. You were both aware that your brother would go into cardiac arrest if he was an unfortunate witness to the way you two danced. 

But Charles wasn’t around. 

And you had no idea where Lando was either.

“I’m thinking Lando might kill us now too,” you laughed. It was easy to convince yourself this was just a game, that you were just messing with Lando, but you had no idea what was actually going through his head. 

Carlos was a few inches taller than you, so he was able to spot Lando easily as he worked his way through the crowd. When you noticed his face twist in confusion you turned around as well and stood on your toes, trying to find him but having no luck.

He slid his hand around your waist very protectively, as you used him for balance, trying to crane your neck even more. You both had stopped dancing at this point, now just trying to make sense of what Lando was doing.

“What is he…” Carlos spoke your thoughts when you finally found Lando, making his way towards the DJ booth. The security guard happily let him past the ropes and both you and Carlos watched as Lando walked up the steps and introduced himself to the DJ. He then leaned in to speak, only to glance your way immediately after.

“This can’t be good,” you averted your attention to Carlos now.

Lando noticed you staring and he raised his hand, waving at you with the most taunting smirk you’d ever seen in your life. 

It was a few seconds later when Tove Lo’s voice faded out, but no new song followed. A chorus of complaints was heard as people turned to the booth but the DJ was quick to grab the mic and bring it to his lips.

“We’ve got a few guests here tonight!” The DJ shouted and the crowd cheered when those who were not drunk enough yet realised that the F1 driver himself was standing up on the booth. “Lando Norris is no stranger to the DJ table but everyone, please give it up for Carlos Sainz!” 

And then the spotlight was on you.

Well, more specifically, Carlos, but there was no space between your bodies and you were suddenly blinded by the bright pink light shining down from above. Carlos’ grip on you tightened, just for your safety, but this was not a crowd that would bombard them for pictures or autographs. These were Monte Carlo locals for the most part, and probably used to running into a driver every now and again.

That didn’t mean you weren’t getting unwanted attention. 

Lando grabbed the mic from the DJ and his voice rang through all of the speakers, “Who wants to hear the Smooth Operators’ DJ-ing debut?” He held his hand out in the direction of Carlos and the club went wild.

You were both suddenly being pushed towards the stairs of the booth, even though Carlos, very loudly, tried to protest and explain that he had absolutely no interest in pretending to be a DJ for the night. This was not a crowd he could say no to.

Arrogance was painted all over Lando’s face as you and Carlos finally reached the base of the stairs. He patted the DJ on the back as the security lifted the rope again. He eyed Carlos’ up challengingly as he stepped down.

“They’re calling for you, mate,” Lando told him, clearly proud of himself for coming up with this idea. “You can’t let them down.”

Carlos looked between you and Lando before ultimately shrugging his shoulders and giving in. He’d be booed out of here if he turned around and didn’t at least try to DJ. Lando knew this. Lando knew Carlos was a people pleaser, this was the only way to get him away from you.

You tried to follow Carlos up the booth, wanting to ignore Lando and this bullshit move he just pulled but Lando’s hand found your wrist and he pulled you into his chest as soon as he stepped off the stairs. 

“You’re the worst, you realise that, right?” You breathed out, your chest rising against his. 

You really did try to keep the smile off your face, but you had to admit, this bullshit move was actually kind of smart. 

“You said I had to work for your attention,” Lando repeated your instructions back to him, lifting his hand to push a few strands of hair behind your ear. His fingers trailed down your jaw as he kept your face upwards, eyes focused on him. “But getting everyone else's attention on Carlos is a lot easier.”

“That’s cheating.”

“That’s working smarter, not harder.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to turn your head so you couldn’t see the way the corner of your lips curled upwards, but Lando’s grip on your jaw only tightened as he pulled your face to his. His lips met yours with a frantic passion, not caring who in the club might have been watching. All he cared about was making you remember who you came here with. 

And who you were undoubtedly about to leave with. 

You ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his scalp, tugging on the strands to get a reaction out of him. A groan emitted from the back of his throat and Lando had to remind himself that iPhones were a thing and if you didn’t stop soon, someone would catch you on camera. 

“We have two options,” Lando muttered against your lips. He dropped his hand to the stair railing behind you, essentially blocking you in. 

He lowered his head to your ear, pressing the softest kiss to the spot on your neck that had your knees going weak. 

“We either go back to my place because it’s only a few blocks away,” Lando suggested, his fingers sliding further into your hair. The grip he had as he twisted the strands around his fingers had you inhaling a sharp breath, anticipating the second option. Even in the dark club, you could see his devious grin. “Or…we stay here and you can keep pretending you like Carlos more than me. Choice is yours.”

It was an easy decision.

All it took was one look and Lando was pulling you outside and towards one of the many waiting cars that lined the streets of Monte Carlo on Fridays and Saturdays. He opened the door for you, he always did. His chivalrous habits weren’t disappearing, even if you were both counting down the minutes until you pulled up to Lando’s flat.

You had spent maybe fifteen minutes at the nightclub. Just long enough for you to have a singular drink. You weren’t even sure if Lando finished his. It was safe to say that neither of you could blame the alcohol for the sudden wave of desperation. 

When Lando climbed into the backseat of the cab next to you, it took all of his strength to not devour you right there right now. He had to settle with keeping his hand on your leg, loving how easy it was to push the hem of your skirt up with just his thumb.

You grabbed his wrist as you clenched your legs together, stopping him before he got any ideas, “This is not the plane ride 2.0.”

“Oh please,” Lando rolled his eyes as he raised his other hand to your jaw. His thumb traced over the curve of your lips, “You loved that plane ride.”

Love was not the word you would have used. You wanted to murder him and straddle him at the same time and to make matters worse, you couldn’t even do anything when you returned to your flat because he had to leave so suddenly. You had practically been waiting all week, longer even, for this moment and god help you, it was not going to start in the backseat of a cab.

That’s why Lando was patient. He had to be with you, he wanted to be. He slowly worked his way up your driver ranking list with the ulterior motive of working his way into your life. He knew you would never allow yourself to be so vulnerable with him if there weren’t any feelings involved, but there were. 

On both ends. You liked him so much it hurt. And Lando had been waiting for this. Waiting for you to open your eyes and see what was right in front of you all along. You weren’t just friends, you would never go back to being just friends. 

You were so much more and you didn’t care about the risks anymore. You just wanted him.

Lando hadn’t lied when he said his place was only a few blocks away, but you didn’t get a chance to ask for a tour of the layout when he opened the door for you. Lando helped you take your heels off but then a squeal passed through your teeth when he suddenly swooped up and carried you down the hall towards the bedroom.

“I thought people only did this when they got married,” you teased, smiling up at him. It was illuminating, even in the dark. 

And he laughed, “Little Leclerc, are you proposing to me?”

“Considering the fact you haven’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet-” the rest of that sentence was cut off when Lando tossed you onto the bed, your back colliding with the duvet, your hair fanned out around you.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows and tilted your head slightly as Lando turned on the lamp in the corner. You watched as he reached for the hem of his shirt when he turned around, pulling it off and tossing it on the floor somewhere. 

When his eyes met yours, Lando had to take a second. 

He wanted to bottle up this moment forever. Tuck it away and keep it safe, or possibly live in it for the rest of his life if he could. 

You, on the edge of his bed, staring up at him with those bright eyes and long lashes. Your lips a light shade of pink, almost matching the blush on your cheeks. There was no way of telling if it was makeup or just you reacting to the way he was looking at you.

And you tried to keep eye contact, you really did. But he was standing in front of you shirtless and you had never been able to really appreciate just how toned he was until right now. You had to stop yourself from reaching forward and dragging your hands over the defined muscles that made up his abdomen. 

Lando finally knelt on the bed, his hand going to the exposed nape of your neck, fingertips grazing the creases of your skin as he gently pushed you back down so your head hit the mattress. Your gaze darted all over his face, unsure where to look as your smile started to grow. 

“What?” He asked, voice lower than usual. But he noticed your expression and he wanted to know what was on your mind.

You cupped his face lightly, your fingers twisting through the short curls on the side of his head as a soft exhale passed through your lips.

And you could have said what you were thinking. You could have told him that you were so happy it scared you. You could have said that you made the right decision, leaving the club. You could have said a lot of things that would have earned a smile in return.

But you still had a playful side, and Lando saw it as soon as your stare narrowed the slightest bit. He almost regretted asking. 

“I still think you’re third on my list,” you murmured, your words followed by the cutest laugh he had ever heard. He couldn’t even bring himself to roll his eyes in response. 

“You don’t mean that,” Lando decided. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against the curve of your throat. Your breath hitched in your throat when he trailed his lips upwards, “You barely lasted fifteen minutes with Carlos before I had to come save you.”

“Save me?” You repeated, but your laughter was caught off when Lando kissed the spot on your neck right below your earlobe. You shifted beneath him, legs clenched together. Lando caught the way you hummed in pleasure, just from his soft kiss alone.

You might not have needed saving but you definitely needed him. 

He hovered his face over yours. There was less than an inch between you and all it took was that smirk from Lando for you to connect your lips once again. It was desperate, the way your mouths danced together, you were both craving each other.

“Lando,” you pulled back slightly.

Of course, concern took over. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, especially after your conversation that took place the morning after he picked you up from the wedding.

Before he could say anything that might steer this in any other direction, your hand roamed up his body before wrapping it around his shoulders.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him. “And I know I’m clean, I just need to throw that out there before-”

He captured your lips again, swallowing the rest of your words. He coaxes your head back down to the pillow and you revel in the way his hands grab hold of your legs, pushing the hem of your skirt further up. 

You kissed him like you’d never get the chance to again as you tangled your fingers through his hair. It was easy to blame the eagerness for the way you pulled a bit too hard, but the low whimper, almost like a beg, that came out of him was sex to your ears. 

“Hair pulling,” you taunt, he could feel you smirk against his lips. “You’re into that?”

“Very much so,” Lando breathed out, no shame in admitting it. He nibbled on your lower lip, tugging on it gently before reconnecting them in another breathless kiss. His hand trailed down your body until he found the hem of your constricting top. You mumbled something about just taking it off and Lando listened. Pulling back so he could rip it from your torso.

And you weren’t wearing a bra either so Lando swore under his breath as he cupped your breast. It didn’t take him long to find the daisy tattoo you kept hidden and he softly traced his fingers over it. 

“Cute,” Lando whispered. It was a simple design, delicate even. Lando didn’t let himself think about how another driver had already seen it because that didn’t matter. You were with him now.

Before you could react, your breath hitched in surprise when he suddenly sat up on his heels and reached for the waistband of your skirt. He pulled it off of you with ease and just like your shirt, it became discarded somewhere on the floor.

Lando parted your legs, resting his knee between them, but before he could rid the last bit of material off your body, he dropped his face to yours again to press his lips to yours in a kiss that quite literally took the air out of your lungs. His fingers gripped the bare skin of your hip, toying with the elastic of your underwear.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips and then slowly working his way down, leaving a trail of warm, open mouth kisses along your throat, your collarbone, between the curve of your breasts, everywhere that was causing a fire to light within you.

He pressed his lips to your naval as he slowly bent your knees and raised your hips off the bed to pull the thin fabric off. 

When he dipped his head between your legs, his hot breath on your core had you automatically pulling your legs together. Lando chuckled at your reaction, loving that he hadn’t even touched you yet and he could get this type of response from you.

His fingers teased the slit of your folds that had only been growing wetter with each passing second. The sensitivity of it all made you squirm, but Lando didn’t keep his hand there for long. 

A breathy wine escaped from the back of your throat when Lando pressed his lips to your thigh. His teeth left marks on your skin as he worked his way up all along the inside of your leg. You wouldn’t have complained if you woke up tomorrow to an array of purple bruises on your thigh in the imprints of his lips.

When Lando finally reaches your centre, you're flooded with a heavy wave of bliss cascading through you. He's intentionally slow as he slots his tongue against the bud of your clit, wanting to feel you squirm. 

You drop your hand to his hair. Knowing that he liked it only encouraged you to pull and direct him further between your legs. 

Lando’s grip on your thighs tightens as his tongue moves to your folds. You attempt to muffle your desperate pleas for him by biting the inside of your cheek so hard until you taste blood. You can feel your nerves standing on their ends from the hair on the back of your neck all the way down to your swollen clit. 

Eventually it becomes too hard to stay quiet.

“God, Lando,” you’re falling apart from just his tongue alone and he knows it. He loves it. His chuckle against you sent a vibration right to your core. 

His nose brushes against your clit and your hips buck against his face. Your grip on his hair tightens and Lando uses that as incitement to speed up, working his tongue in and out of you with such tenacity like he was a drowning man and was searching for the air to save him between your folds.

The moan that escapes you is angelic when Lando inserts a two of his fingers deep inside you, curling them upwards. Your legs shake involuntarily in response and Lando just had to lift his head up to see your face twist in pleasure. It’s a sight he wants permanently seared into his mind, one that he wants to see everyday. One that he wished he could have seen sooner.

He thinks you're beautiful but all you can think about is how close you are to coming undone from just his fingers and tongue. 

And you didn’t want that. You wanted this to last longer. You wanted to feel every inch of him inside you before ultimately falling apart. 

“Lando,” his name blends nicely with a quiet moan. “Y- you need to stop, I don’t want to cum yet.”

Yet, you say. As if you don’t have faith he could bring you to an orgasm more than once. Lando is almost offended at your train of thought and he just dives in deeper. Disregarding your plea to stop because, let's be real, you don’t actually want him to stop. 

He closed his eyes and savoured the sweet taste of you. With his tongue working alongside his fingers, it doesn’t take long until he feels your muscles tighten around him. Your legs clench on either side of his head, you’re tugging on his hair so hard it has to hurt but Lando doesn’t seem to mind.

There’s a jolt to all of your senses when you cum. A vivacious rumble rolls through your body. Your legs twitch as your eyes screw shut and Lando laps up every drop of you. You’re intoxicating, is what it is and this is easily something he could get used to.

You pull him up to your face, connecting your lips with his in a lazy kiss. 

“I told you to stop,” your eyes flutter open to meet his. Even after all that, the only way to describe his stare is hungry. Lando isn’t anywhere near done with you. “I didn’t want to cum yet.”

Lando laughed, “When have I ever listened to you?”

He had a point there.

He backed away from you to pull his bottoms off, adding to the mess of clothes on the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows when he reached the waistband of his briefs. When he finally removed the constricting material, your jaw fell slack. 

“Should I be offended?” Lando asked, crawling back on the bed. “You thought I’d be smaller?”

There was no right answer. You just stayed quiet, taking his jaw delicately in your hand as he positioned himself above you. 

Lando nodded towards the floor, “I can just put my clothes back on if you’re disappointed then-”

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes but Lando couldn’t help but grin. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“No?” Lando, grips the underside of your leg again, pulling you further down the mattress so you couldn’t rely on the headboard for any support. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You pull his face down to yours, but refrain from kissing him. Your lips barely brush over his, “I want you to fuck me, Lando.”

He should have guessed you weren’t one to beg. You were always blunt, straightforward in all the ways that made him forget how to tease you. And if he was being honest, this was maybe the one time he didn’t want to be playful with you. He wanted to see you fall apart again, he wanted to hear his name pass through your lips combined with strangled moans.

Lando pinned you down, licking a stripe from your collarbone up to your jaw as he grips your ass tightly. He starts to nibble on your earlobe and your back arches off the bed, feeling the tip of his cock tease your folds.

“I want you,” you say again, breathlessly. Lando melts at the sound of your voice but he doesn’t let him deter him from the way your body is reacting to his touch. 

You can feel yourself throbbing as Lando takes your face in his hand, his thumb tugging down your bottom lip before slowly sliding it past your teeth. 

“You want me to go slow?” He asks. He doesn’t think that’s what you want, but he still has to be sure.

You swirl your tongue around the tip of his thumb as you shake your head. The cocky arrogance in his expression is unmissable as he removes his thumb and kisses you once more. You try to kiss him back but the moment he enters you, you need a second to catch your breath.

Lando really didn’t want to tease you, but he had to go slow to start off with. Your hands move to his back, already he can feel the imprint of your nails in his skin. He drops his forehead to yours, holding back a groan himself as your walls tighten around him.

And then something in his snaps. He bends your knees upwards as your fingers rake over the crevices in his back. You lift your hips up as he pulls out and thrusts into you once, and then twice and already he’s found a rhythm that’s making you see stars.

“Oh fuck,” he mutters, your name falling from his lips as he drops his face to the crook of your neck. His words are caught off when he attaches his lips to your skin, as if pounding into you wasn’t enough, he wanted you to feel him everywhere.

Your shallow breaths are uneven and erratic as he continues, losing control bit by bit as he goes on. Lando knows exactly where to put his hands on your body, he knows to swallow your moans with his mouth, he knows that you clenching around him is a feeling he could drown in.

You whimper when he suddenly props himself and moves backwards, keeping his body perpendicular to your core. His grip on your hips is rough, maybe a little too rough but you’re not one to complain. You’ve seen his hands, you know the strength he carries, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you realised you were starting to grow feelings for the Formula 1 driver. 

Lando finds his rhythm again, staring down at you, at the way your eyes gloss over with each deep thrust until he feels your legs tremble in his grasp. He slows, but doesn’t stop.

“You okay?” He asks, his chest heaving. 

It was sweet that he cared but you didn’t want to be able to walk tomorrow. You didn’t want him to stop, not now, not when it felt this good. 

“Keep going,” you urgered, adding a quiet, “Please,” at the end because you just knew Lando hearing you beg would send him into another world. He listens to you, surprisingly and you could have sworn his next rough thrust could have broken you.

And then he pulls out, despite what you were previously asking for and it leaves you pouting. 

“Lando-”

“‘Wanna pace myself,” he tells you. You can see his neck glisten with sweat. “You feel so fucking good.”

You lift your body to his to wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him back down. The kiss you share is furious and driven by lust and desire and he really did want to take his time, but you’re impossible to resist. With the way your body melts against his, the way your mouths move in sync, it's natural, it's euphoric.

You pulled back, swallowing as your eyes met his, “Either fuck me or I’m going back to that club-”

Lando didn’t let you finish whatever bullshit line you were going to say. You didn’t mean it, you just needed to light fire under him. The last thing you wanted was for him to pace himself, to hold back, and he didn’t. 

He rams his cock into you again before you could take back your words, fucking you much harder now than before. 

Your strangled moans curl out of your throat as the feeling of him deep inside you has you squeezing your eyes shut. Your body falls limp against the mattress as you attempt to hold yourself against him. One of his arms rests on the pillow next to your head and his fingers twist through your hair. 

The gesture would have been sweet if he wasn’t pounding into you like there was no tomorrow. Instead, Lando uses the grip on your hair to bring your attention back to him. Your eyes flutter open and you get lost in this moment.

You can feel how tense his muscles are from holding back and you realise he doesn’t want to cum until you do. 

But the way his cock stretches you out has you giving in underneath him. He touches the deepest parts of you like he belongs there, like he was meant to be there. His thumb traces along your jaw and his gentle touch contrasting against his hips slapping against yours leaves you whimpering. He nearly loses it himself at the sound you just made.

“Lando I’m so close,” you whispered. Thank God.

He tries to smile, it gets lost against your mouth as he kisses you. “I want you to cum for me,” he mutters against your lips. 

Your orgasm hits you hard. You were a fucking idiot for thinking he couldn’t make you cum again because your body is shaking and he feels all of it. He feels your walls clench around him as you grip his hair and call out his name through a string of desperate breaths and expletives and it makes him come undone with you.

Lando’s buried himself deep inside of you. Something between a grunt and a moan escapes his lips as his cock twitches against your walls and it makes you want to stay in this moment forever. Your limbs are tangled together, your bodies are sticking with sweat and your breaths are in sync, but if you thought about it, the two of you had been in sync this whole time.

A minute passes, maybe two, where you don’t say anything. You don’t need to say anything.

Lando kissed your cheek and then your other cheek and when your nose scrunched up he kissed your forehead. You shifted uncomfortably when he slid out of you, but it was when you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for his hand as he climbed out of bed did it hit you that there was no going back now.

That was the most vulnerable, most intimate you could have been with someone, someone that you didn’t want to be vulnerable with. You should have felt sick, you should have been panicking about what was to follow but instead you just wanted him back in bed with you. You wanted to stay in this bubble you had created.

You knew you couldn’t, though. When he came back, briefs now on and an oversized shirt in his hands for you, you knew that this moment was too good to last.

But you didn’t let yourself think about it. About the rest of the world, the people in your lives, the media. Lando crawled back into bed next to you once you put his shirt on and you faced each other. Your hand rested along his cheek and he turned slightly to kiss the inside of your palm.

“I had a no dating drivers rule,” you whispered. Lando laughed in response, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I hate that you made me break it.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not,” he quickly agreed, licking his lips. “I’m also not sorry about kicking Carlos to third on your list.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no arguing with him. Not after the stunt he pulled in the club, not after finally being intimate. Lando had successfully worked his way up from sixth to second. 

But there was still one more driver to go.

And it wasn’t about competition anymore, not with Charles. Lando had to approach this one from a different angle. He couldn’t compete against your brother, he knew how important family was to you. 

The last thing Lando wanted was to draw a line between you and Charles and he wasn't going to do that.

He just had to win him over.

masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 @majx00 @sbgal @mehrmonga @themockingjayreader @f1mockingjay @topguncultleader @lclrnelliluvs @moonxblossom @dr3lover @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @tsarinablogs @noescapricho-essentimiento @xqueenslytherinx if i missed someone im so sorry

[cloudcountry]

bend the rules for mc!

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones.

Summary: Someone shit talks Jack Howl in front of you—and you act accordingly. Only...acting accordingly inside of the Mostro Lounge is different than acting accordingly outside of it.

Author's Comments: I was going to make this Floyd centered for one of my friends but it kinda just turned into Floyd/Jade/Azul protecting Reader from stupid people. Also excusing their outburst because they like them. Bias.

~~~~~

You could barely hide your shaking shoulders, avoiding eye contact as you took their empty glasses. They weren’t paying attention to you—of course they weren’t, you were just their server—as they yapped away about Jack Howl.

You confirmed a while ago that they were indeed Savanaclaw students, coming to visit the Mostro Lounge to unwind on a Friday night. You wanted to go back to your dorm and hang out with Ace and Deuce before the weekend, but you knew that the Mostro Lounge was chaotic on Fridays. You didn’t need to ask Azul for a day off to know that he’d say no.

“I can’t believe that inconsiderate wolf ruined our fun.” one of the students cackled, slapping one of his companions on the back.

“Exactly! It’s not like we ruined his cacti or anything. Geeze, he’s up uptight.”

“I know right. He’s such a wimp for getting pissy about such a little thing. He doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“If you’re going to talk all this big game, why don’t you back it up?” you slammed one of their refills on the table, finally fed up with their shit.

“Hey, what gives?” the student you dubbed Savanaclaw Student A stood up in the booth, glaring at you.

“If you’re going to talk shit about my friend, then at least say it to his face.” you stood your ground, glaring at him.

“Ehhh, Shrimpy? What’s going on?”

A shadow loomed over you and the students, spelling out nothing but doom. The other two Savanaclaw students that had stood up to defend their friend now shook in the spot, baring their teeth at the person behind you.

“Floyd.” you acknowledged his presence but did not turn around, refusing to break your gaze away from Savanaclaw Student A.

You were not going to lose.

“Come on, Shrimpy. What’s happening over here? Jade saw trouble.” you felt an arm wrap around your right shoulder and a chin rest on your left one.

“They were insulting my friend. That’s it. It’s my business, you and Jade and Azul shouldn’t get involved.” you tried to shrug him off to no avail.

“Yeah, they’re right.” one of the students piped up, “Even if we did cause trouble, the bitch had it coming anyways. It’s improper for servers to do anything but serve.”

“Do not call me that.” you seethed. You were ignored.

“Yeah! They shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.” another student argued, his voice raising in volume.

“Aaagh, shut up.” Floyd groaned, slowly tucking you behind him, “You three are so loud. You’re acting like you want to get squeezed.”

Your anger could have softened to a simmer because of the responsibility you felt for the possibility of Floyd strangling someone in the middle of the Mostro Lounge (oh, Azul would have your head for that.) However, fate had other plans, since the students apparently didn’t know when to quit.

“That’s all they’re good for anyway. Snatching up information and delivering it to Ashengrotto. Were you going to get that slimy octopus to rope us into one of his contracts?” Student A sneered.

“Don’t talk about Azul that way either!” you yelled, unable to hold your volume back any longer.

“Oh dear. Someone has kicked up quite a fuss, haven’t they Floyd?” Jade hummed, swooping in beside you.

“Yeah. They’re giving me a headache.” Floyd grumbled.

You couldn’t see Floyd’s facial expression, but there was no way he wasn’t glaring right now. Leave it to a bunch of shitty customers to completely tank his mood.

You could tell Jade’s face was as serene as ever, though there was an underlying amusement in the antics of bad customers. From working there a few months, you knew Jade never showed anger or caused a scene within the Lounge. He always handled things quickly and quietly.

“Come with me, dear. Azul wants to talk with you.” Jade offered you his hand, still smiling.

“With all due respect, I don’t want to leave until they apologize for what they said.” you turned away from Jade, once again being held back by Floyd.

Jade blinked before chuckling lightly, turning on his heel back towards Azul’s office.

“Heyyy, you wanna fight?” Floyd turned up his nose, staring down at the students like they were vermin, “Nobody hurts Little Shrimpy’s feelings and gets away with it, ya know?”

“My feelings aren’t hurt! I’m angry! Don’t make it sound like I’m crying and depressed!” you shot back.

“Come here.” someone hissed, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the fight.

“Hey!” you yelled, whipping around to face the culprit.

Azul was scowling at you, his glasses crooked on his nose as he marched you to the VIP Room. You didn't say anything else but refused to staring at the floor like a kicked puppy. You glared at the Savanaclaw students until Azul had dragged you into the VIP Room. You finally turned to face him with your arms crossed and eyes narrowed as the door slammed shut behind you. Azul didn't look at you either. He simply pulled out a chair and motioned for you to sit. Preparing for the scolding of your life, you sat down without saying a word. He sat down after you.

“Ahem. I’m sure you’re aware that you caused a scene out there. Which is not something Mostro Lounge employees are supposed to do.” Azul adjusted his glasses, staring into you with his cold, blue eyes.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“However.” he cleared his throat, pulling out his desk chair and sitting down, “Jade brought it to my attention that the Savanaclaw students…antagonized someone important to you first. Because of this, they antagonized you, and you were simply defending yourself.”

Azul paused for a moment, shooting you a soft smile.

“It would be a shame to lose such a good employee. We all like having you around.” Azul hummed, standing up once again to approach you, “And as I’m sure you know, The Mostro Lounge is an establishment for gentlemen.”

The words from your escape from Scarabia rang throughout your ears as you realized what they meant.

Mercy. You weren't going to get fired, and he was even bending his policy for you.

You did nothing as Azul placed his hand on your head, gently rubbing circles to calm you down.

“Those students caused a ruckus that you were trying to control by defending your classmate, and me in the process. Since this was a direct verbal attack on the Lounge’s faculty, we are within our rights to throw them out. Jade and Floyd will do the honors.”

“Great. Wonderful. But I'd rather throw them out myself. I’m still angry.” you looked up at him, the anger still simmering in your chest.

“Well, darling.” his eyes shone with mischief, “We can always make a deal.”

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ WHERE’S THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME!

↳ part one / the chronicles of jj & smartiepants!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . the alchemy (taylor swift)

an this is dedicated to everyone who said i should write a part 2 thank u for supporting my agenda <3 AND thank you to all the people who helped me understand hs football culture i hope this was a realistic depiction 😓 !!

football never failed to make you feel anxious. before you started dating jason, you didn't really care for it, only showing up for games because you liked the whole 'team spirit' thing and because it was a good excuse to hang out with your friends. now, however, things have changed

since it was jason's whole life, you took it upon yourself to learn all about the rules of the game and the roles of the different players (with a special interest in jason's role for no reason in particular). now, whenever you showed up to a game, you'd actually be watching your school's every move, ignoring your friends' banter and focusing on jason and jason alone

'this is just a friendly match' is the mantra you kept repeating in your head as you watched. you knew that deep down, having a match sprung up on him like this bothered jason, even though it wouldn't count for anything. you also knew that this would affect his skill regarding the game. at this point, you've memorised jason's every move by heart, and you could tell that today just wasn't his day

the rest of the team looked pretty hopeless too. with their captain in this condition, how could they stay positive? they relied on jason to lift their spirits and up their motivation. little did they (and you) know, jason relied on you to lift him up

ever since you started actually paying attention to games, cheering him and only him on, wearing his jersey with his surname plastered on your back, his prowess went from amazing to formidable. there were times when juggling schoolwork, social life and being the captain of the football team really got to him, and he almost considered shutting himself off from the world. but then he'd remember your sugary smile and kind words and addictive lips and he'd feel rejuvenated. just the thought of you alone was like a lifeline to him

this was one of those times. he turned to look at you, sitting all pretty on the bleachers. despite being in the midst of a sea of purple, jason could pinpoint you within a millisecond. he gave you a small grin, and you waved at him as you sported a smile of your own

"go jason!" you yelled, your voice making jason feel like he ate some of the ambrosia greek demigods would in those myths you learnt about in class. all of a sudden, he was full of energy and quickly passed that on to his teammates, hyping them all up for the rest of the game. they could still win this

and they did. others believed it was a miracle, but jason knew what it was. it was you. if you weren't there, they probably would've suffered a scathingly embarrassing loss against CHB high, who'd been shading them for their 'too rigid' style of playing. begrudgingly, their headmaster brought out the trophy, about to present it to jason when he realised the boy had disappeared

jason didn't care about the trophy. instead of collecting it, taking a few pictures and making a speech, he ran over to you - nearly jumping over the barrier between the bleachers and the pitch to give you a very heated kiss. how could he care about the trophy when his real prize had been here all along?

(the picture of the two of you kissing had been passed around school and you'd gotten teased relentlessly afterwards, but you didn't care. you truly were in your own world - who were you to fight the alchemy?)

[reallyromealone]

Title: young and beautiful

Fandom: Shrek

Pairing: prince charming x male reader

Warnings: tall strong reader, size difference

Notes: April fools (if you saw this by accident no you didn't ❤��)

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

(Name) sighed as he slipped his drink, another ball he was forced to attend as his sister ran off with her husband and played house in a swamp, everyone in far far away that mattered was here including the fairy godmother and her son, woman and men alike fawning over him as (name) just wanted to go back into the palace and avoid this mess.

"Why don't you go talk to the prince?" Queen Lilian tried to urge her son, (name) had no interest in talking to that blond twink as he downed the rest of his drink "oh no, I'm out of wine" he said robotically as he went to the table of wine glasses and ignored the servers with champagne and wine, fully planning on slipping away from it all and go anywhere else, though luck wasn't even remotely on his side as Prince charming locked eyes with him and ignored his fans, (name) knew his game and knew he was going to try and slut his way into a crown.

He wasn't going to allow him to do that, he wasn't going to fawn over this man.

"My~ aren't you handsome" charming said with a low chuckle as he gently touched (name)s bicep but the crown prince had no interest as he stared at him blankly "best you got?" (Name) said as he took another glass, champagne this time and stared at the blond "I am not swayed to pretty words and touches" he said before walking away and charming looked furious at the fact his flirting failed laughably, (name) barely paying him mind.

"You don't get to walk away from me!" He huffed and followed the prince as (name) walked into the palace "can and I will, my palace I can do what I want" (name) said simply and charming glared "why aren't you interested in me?!"

(Name) halted and looked at him "I have seen you a million times, a pretty face who wants a pretty castle and pretty things but no interest in me and use me for my fortune, tell me charming... Would you love me when I'm old? When I'm no longer young and beautiful? Or would you only marry me for wealth?" He asked as he loomed over the bond prince, staring down at him coldly before leaning into his ear and whispering "I'm not going to be swayed by a twink with nice hair, I marry for love not so my partner can treat me like a cash cow"

Charming wasn't sure what to do, no one spoke to him like that and frankly... It was kind of hot.

"And he called be a blond twink!" He seethed to his mother who went over her budget reports "he's always been a prickly prince, sweety" the fairy god mother said lovingly to her son who grumbled as he wandered back to his bedroom and thought about the altercation once more, he was so demanding and serious with him! Calling him demeaning names and looking at him like a common whore.

He wanted more.

(Name) sighed as he worked on his coronation, his parents getting up in years and wanting to retire so he had to make sure it was perfect as it would reflect on him, he needed to have the best start to his rule after all.

"Sweety why don't you take a rest" Queen Lilian tried to urge her son but Howard huffed "leave him be, my love" (name) was always the serious one compared to his sister which said something, the two very different in their attitudes in life and (name) just wanted the kingdom to go in a better direction "will you be... Inviting your sister to the wedding"

"Her and the family are invited yes, it will take them till the coronation to get here" he never met his nieces or nephews but he was curious about them... He never saw an ogre baby.

He didn't see charming till three and a half weeks after the ball, a dinner party this time, the two set right beside each other as Charming looked at the strong king to be, wanting to provoke him to get another one of this reactions again but the other just sighed "why do you insist on my attention? Haven't I already told you?" He grumbled and charming just seemed giddy at the glare "come now, you can't possibly not like me~" he flirted and (name) just looked at him blankly before returning to his meal, the other guests giggling quietly at them, to the others it sounded like an old married couple bickering.

It wasn't until the end of the night when (name) had enough, and dragged charming to a forgotten hallway where the blond grinned but his breath was knocked out when (name) had him pinned to the wall, nose inches from his own "can you kindly fuck off? I know your angle and frankly I'm not impressed by your insistence! You are fully aware I have no intentions of being with someone who is only after the crown and yet you p e r s i s t" his voice cold and deep and he would have pulled away if it weren't for the raging erection that pressed against (name)s thigh "oh dear..." Charming and (name) both looked down and (name) sighed "were you being annoying and such for a reaction due to your degradation kink?" He asked bored and Charming sputtered out some things and looked flustered much to the normally serious kings to be amusement "oh please! Like I would do something like that! What do you take me for?! Some harlot?!"

Things connected for (name), he probably wanted him for the crown at first then realized he was into how blunt and such (name) was and subconsciously seeked out insults once he figured out he liked being put in his place.

It made sense, seeing as he needed attention constantly.

"I just don't understand how she could do something so /tacky/! It's completely disgusting to be wearing such clashing color combinations and think it's fashion!" Charming grumbled as he had his face mask on, doing his nails as (name) read the paper and listened to his husband bitch about what Snow white did, his crown on a pillow on the bedside as was charmings on his side "can you believe it!"

"I can hardly believe it, my dear" (name) mumbled as Charming huffed but knew (name) was listening, he was always listening to the blonds words even if you (name) it was absolute nonsense as he slept on the others broad shoulder and (name) flicked off the lamp that hung on the wall.

"Goodnight my love"

[percyluvr]

Omg hi can you do a Percy x child of Nike!reader? maybe like something hurt/comfort and lots of touch bc I am hanging on by a thread. Thank you

percy jackson x child of nike!reader summary: you've been overworking yourself preparing for capture the flag and something your boyfriend says finally sends you over the edge wc: 676

You'd always known yourself to be quite a rational thinker. Even as a child of Nike, you usually knew when to stop and take a break so you didn't overwork yourself, but this time you'd finally crossed the line into concerning territory. 

Ever since your first loss in capture the flag since you'd arrived at camp, you'd been training every day to get better. While you knew that training for 7+ hours a day every single day would take a toll on you, you just didn't expect for it to have this big an effect on you. Every day, you could be seen tiredly getting your breakfast, falling asleep at lunch, and nearly passing out during sword fighting.

At first, Percy had been concerned, but didn't want to voice it, as you'd always known when to rest before, but this time it was different. He knew you hated to lose, but when his team beat yours in capture the flag last month, he didn't know it would affect you this much. He wanted to talk to you, but he could never find you when it wasn't meal time, and you were always asleep in addition to the not being able to sit at other cabins' tables rule that he so graciously followed.

Days passed, and he noticed that the natural glow that you and your siblings typically had was completely gone. The glow of the Nike kids came from small victories day to day that most people wouldn't really consider victories, but the Nike kids cared about all of them. However, the fact that yours was completely gone and you were looking paler than ever just proved the fact that you were overworking yourself and not paying attention to the smaller things, mainly being your health.

This observation brought him to one conclusion: he was going to have to talk you into resting, which would prove to be a very difficult endeavor because everyone at camp knew how hard it was to get a Nike kid to do anything but obsess over winning.

That night, he found you practicing your swordsmanship. He saw the way that you tiredly swung the sword, nearly dropping it numerous times.

"Hey, what are you doing? It's almost curfew," he says, breaking your already waning focus.

"Oh, Perce," you say tiredly, "just practicing for capture the flag."

"Baby, you need to rest, you've been overworking yourself like crazy."

"Listen, I get that you're worried about me, but you don't get it. I've never lost a game of capture the flag. Not in the 4 years I've been at this camp, Percy. You may think it's silly because your team won and you probably think it's just some stupid camp game, but it matters to me, okay? It's a way for me to prove that I'm good enough, Percy," you snapped.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry, okay. I don't think that at all. If it's important to you, it's important to me, but your health is what matters most to me," he gently takes your hand in his. "C'mon let's sit down, okay?"

"Okay," you murmured, your tiredness now fully caught up with you.

"Y'know I wasn't trying to upset you, I'm just worried about you. I love you and I care about you," he whispered in your ear, strong arms wrapped around you. Him saying this was what finally broke you, and you started crying.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't cry, okay? You're the most important thing in my life and I hate seeing you like this. All burnt out and crying, you don't deserve this. But you have to rest if you're going to win next time, okay?" He brings you into his lap and puts his head on your shoulder.

"Yeah, okay," you sniffled, leaning into him. He gave you a soft kiss, and the two of you sat there cuddled up, and when you inevitably fell asleep, he carried you back to his cabin and the two of you cuddled up and slept through the night, keeping each other warm.

a/n: hopefully this was at least somewhat what u were hoping for! i had a lot of fun writing this saur i hope u like it !

[homunculus-argument]

Unless you're doing math or baking, or something where there's an exact way to reach an exact goal, it's generally good to bear in mind that most things can't be done wrong, just in different ways, and if the same goal can be acheved multiple ways but you're not achieving the goal, the issue isn't about the wrong method but the wrong approach.

Most difficulties people have with social interactions isn't that someone is bad at talking with people, just that people are used to different ways of talking with people. There's good social skill in learning to observe how people talk, and learning to adjust your approach to match someone else, but if things like pleasant conversation just aren't happening, it's good to just be able to shrug and accept "maybe this is just how things are done where this person is from." Conversations are like tossing a ball back and forth, but the rules of the game are different from person to person, and from place to place.

Like talking pace. There's both cultural and personal variation in how quickly the turn to talk is switched, and people who are fast-paced will often find themselves stalling and struggling to come up with something more to say when the person they're trying to talk with seems to be dead silent, and on the other end, the slower-paced talker is struggling to get a word in, because the pause that they see as the natural pause between turns to talk is interpreted as an awkward silence by the faster talker, who struggles to fill the gap, usually unintentionally interrupting the slower talker just when they were about to start their own turn. Both parties are frustrated.

The way of talking I was raised with is talking about yourself. Like if we're talking about work, I'll talk about my own work, and then when the ball is thrown back to you, you talk about your own work, back and forth, so while we're both just talking about our own thing, we're still both talking about the subject of work. It would be rude for me to talk about your thing as if I knew anything about it as well as I know my own personal thing, so if you describe something in your own job, I'll go "oh, so is it similar to - " and describe something that I see parallels for in my own work thing.

And for people who don't do this, talking only about yourself comes off rude, like you're not listening to what they're talking about and are constantly trying to change the subject back to yourself. The rules they are playing by are different - you're not supposed to take the ball, you wait for it to be handed to you, and someone dominating the conversation is hogging the ball, and being inconsiderate. I've had to learn to pay attention to this more, and see if the person I'm talking with is trying to politely let the conversation be All About Me, and is simply politely waiting for the ball to be handed to them.

If you have no idea why something isn't working the way you think it should be working, it's sometimes good to pause and remind yourself that you're probably not doing it wrong, but that it's probably time to check that you're not trying to play two completely different games with different rules.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐄 in me as I 𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

side comments: wanted to write for our Nanook and Yaoshi some spoilers of course, violence, Nanook's is kinda dark, reader is known to be the 'arbitrator' or 'mediator.

Whenever a tale, record or paper regarding the elusive and ancient Aeons of the vast cosmos, you, the Arbitrator always weave into each battle, dispute and archive.

You unified and ruled each contestation and difference and have lingered amongst the Aeons yet was never considered one yourself: like a fine mist braiding through the folds of the universe, unravelling and sewing it together.

And by 'it', you meant the Aeons.

While the Aeons were born and bound to the ideologies they arose from with a passionate frenzy, you merely existed- and for what purpose? Historians debated if you were a presence higher than that of Aeons: a mystic authoritarian figure whose one wave or snap of their fingers would bring an undisputed settlement, like a court judge.

However, others consider you to be less of a judge and more of a mediator. A force that ensures the Aeons keep within their bounds and do not screw the universe over entirely. Some reckon that you are an Aeon whose gaze never spared a glance. There are even theories that suggest that Lan is your pupil of sorts. In addition, some pay no mind to you at all in the grand ever-present scheme of Aeons and their ploys.

Regardless of what myriad debates, theories or conjectures rise among devout followers, skeptics, historians and the average being, an indisputable fact remains. No matter the conflict, you are always found amongst the lines in the story or perhaps only mentioned at the very end. A peculiar and reiterating occurrence that even a child could predict.

Alas, only the Aeons themselves will know who you are to them

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐊 - the destruction

Nanook believes you are a nuisance at best. However, you choose your disputes carefully and at times, unpredictably.

Out of every Aeon you have come between, Nanook is by far the one seen most often.

Behind your back, they scoff at mentioning of your name and title and more so at the Aeons who share an ounce of respect for your inexplicable ability or deem you a 'peacemaker'.

However, your trait of never showing favour towards one Aeon or another is like a double-edged sword.

Nanook could hardly recount the myriad amount of times they had benefited from your mediation.

What dumbfounds Nanook is that beings think of you as powerful.

You quite frankly aren't, you're simply a 'good talker.'

And they loathe that.

You know their mind and toy with it, rendering with their plans only for them to alter it. You thrive on their vexations and revel in the might of their aggravation and disgust. Instead of annihilating sparks of life, you force them to cherish it within the palms of their savage hands.

Do you find pleasure in their abhorrence? Seeking it out for laughter's sake?

Nevertheless, Nanook knows you are not shallow or in any resemblance towards Aha.

In addition, Nanook knows you are neither a peacemaker nor a chaos-bringer.

There are moments when you come to Nanook and observe them acutely; having experienced your prying eyes for millennia, they remain steadfast and silent in your presence. Only then can Nanook appreciate you, not for your skill, however, for a delectable and insatiable opportunity to deliver their final gift to humanity: destruction.

For now, Nanook will reign havoc on the planets you grow fond of while quietly vying for a sliver of your attention in hopes of ultimately standing victorious in the eternal game of interastral tug of war.

Perhaps Nanook will then adore you for all the delight you brought to a now, empty universe.

𝐘𝐀𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 - the abundance

Yaoshi believes you are in mortal terms: ‘god sent.’

In comparison to Nanook, Yaoshi does not harbour ill will.

On the contrary, they are fascinated by you.

Why do you come between the Aeons? Do you have preferences? What pleases you?

Yes, there are times when you settle disputes and foil the plans of The Abundance. However, it does not matter! Yaoshi will continue to spread the blessings of eternal life and never-ending spings out into the universe while they watch you from afar.

However, the Aeons are selfish, cunning and self-absorbed. They will gladly swallow any opportunity that comes their way. Hence, Yaoshi's 'curiosity' grows beyond the confines of the word itself.

If you can thwart the plans of Nanook- what else can you do?

Yaoshi admires the growth and sprouting of life from their fingertips: how a flower blossoms vibrantly, staying in said form for eternity.

Thus, Yaoshi can only lick their lips and quell their ever-growing hunger.

What wonder would it be to see you bloom and bring waves of life with a mere sway of your arms or snap of your finger? Worlds can be born and no harm shall tread upon the universe- such a reality can now be achieved...

For now, Yaoshi will whisper sweet words of praise in your ear like honey; gradually drowning you in each sugary drop until they can dress you up in whatever they may fancy. You'll be the star of the universe, you'll be the epitome of ardency and everlasting life. Worshiped and praised: the universe will string together songs of your benevolence!

Alas, Yaoshi must limit their daydreaming... work must be done to accomplish their ultimate dream and it has only just begun.

masterlist

I might do a part two with the other Aeons... probably Lan and Xipe. I honestly wanted to get this out of my drafts.

[sunshine-theseus]

Photo Roulette | Chloe Kelly x Reader

Words: 1.6k Summary: Media day has Chloe finally revealing her relationship. Warnings: Angst, fluff, suggestive themes (I know degrees like PhDs take super long but for the sake of this story please either pretend they don’t, or that she is super smart and managed to cut the time in like half.) Requested by - @charligrantismygirlfriend

After graduating from Oxford with a bachelor’s degree and PhD in Cellular and Molecular Biochemistry, I made the move to Manchester as a clinical biochemist. Falling in love with a professional footballer was not on my list of things to do when I moved, but when a new work colleague insisted I take their extra ticket to a “derby match” as they called it, I took the chance to broaden my non-existent Manchester social circle.

And somehow, I caught the eye of the blonde forward. The number 9 jersey found it’s way into my hand with a signature and phone number and by 7pm that night, I had a date set up.

We went on a few before Chloe and I made anything official. And with making it official, came a set list of rules regarding our relationship and her work, number one was that it didn’t exist to fans. Well, it did, but no one would know who the mystery girl was. It was a tough rule to follow, it meant whenever we hung out, we had to be hyperaware of our levels of affection and what we discussed. Dates had to be at home or in a very secluded corner of a high-end restaurant with a name no one knows how to pronounce, because that means no one there would care who we are.

I was, and forever will be grateful that those places weren’t an issue for us. Both with rather lucrative professions, my starting salary slowly increasing the longer I stay, and her’s naturally growing with the popularity of the game. It also meant it was easier for us to find a more private area to buy a house, 1 ½ years without a single issue of fans knocking on the door or press waiting for some big news story to break. The perfect paradise.

No one knew who the famous Chloe Kelly is dating and had no way of finding out. Until media day.

-

“Have fun! I won’t be finished at the lab until late, so maybe we’ll get takeaway for dinner?” I kiss Chloe goodbye as I pick up my keys and bag from beside the door.

“For sure! Have a good day staring at cells. At least it’s not jail cells.” I chuckle and make my way out.

My day is in fact consumed with studying pathogens within blood and other bodily fluid. It’s nearly 6pm when Filipa taps me on the shoulder, breaking my concentration and reintroducing me to my surroundings. She helps me pack everything away, we say our farewells and I head home, picking up a vegetarian pizza on the way.

“How was media day?” I ask, plopping down on the couch next to Chloe, who rests her arm around my shoulders.

“Bloody weird as usual. I did this “go through your phone” thing, but it was all good fun. I did some mini games with Yui as well. She wants us to come over for dinner again sometime.”

“Absolutely. I miss her oh my god.” I take a bite of the pizza and rest my head on her shoulder, images on the telly flashing in front of us, neither one paying attention.

“How was your day at the lab Dr Spencer Reid?”

“You’ve been watching Criminal Minds again?”

“Mhm.”

“Spencer and I are two different types of doctors.”

“Mmhm.”

“I mean we both have the honorifics but his is like, not the same. Well it is but… never mind.” I can see Chloe’s lip twitch upward as I try to explain and lightly nudge her.

“I love listening to you get defensive about your title. You deserve it more than anyone in the world.” Her lips press gently to my hairline, then to my cheek, and finally land on my own lips.

“Plus, I love calling you doctor, it’s kind of hot.” My face flushes and I smack her arm.

“Behave!”

“Sorry… doctor.” To make it brief, the night didn’t end there. It ended much, much later, with both of us panting, the cotton sheets covering her soft skin while I splash my face with water in the ensuite.

~~~~~

I don’t give the results of Chloe’s media day another thought for a very long time. Until a month later when Fillipa, in similar fashion to the day of filming said content, breaks me from my work and places her phone on the desk in front of me.

I give her a rather confused look, but she just points to the screen and presses play.

“Well, the next part of Unlocked is one of my favourite bits; Photo Roulette.” The guy who sits next to Chloe explains the rules.

“Fillipa what is this?”

“Just keep watching.” I watch as Chloe scrolls through the thousands of photos stored on her phone, until he tells her to stop.

Her finger lands on a photo, one that no one can see yet, and she lets out a hearty laugh.

“’S it a good one?” he claps his hands together and waits to see the results. There are a few moments of silence before Chloe explains the picture, showing it to the host.

“It’s a picture of my girlfriend, Y/n. I was trying to teach her football and she comes out in this goofy old kit of mine that’s like 4 sizes too big for either of us, socks rolled all the way up with a huge grin on her face.” The smile that shines on Chloe’s face as she recounts that day makes it hard for me to feel the anger boiling in the pit of my stomach. The picture shows up on screen, taking up the whole space, and now the secret is revealed to everyone who we worked so hard to hide it from.

“Is this the secret girlfriend you’ve been hiding the identity of for over 2 years? You finally decided it’s time.” He lets out a laugh after the comment, but I can see the recognition in her eyes and the smile fades from her face. She doesn’t say anything.

It takes me 32 minutes on average, to drive home. On any other day. But when I get into the car, I have to decide whether I should take significantly longer, or cut the time in half, to confront my girlfriend with my findings.

I arrive home at 5:21. With the combination of leaving work a few minutes early, and the somehow blessed lack of traffic, it’s nearly 15 minutes earlier than usual.

“You’re home early!” a cheerful shout echoes down the hall, blissfully unaware of the rage bubbling beneath my skin.

“Just thought I’d get home before the fans tracked me down and swarmed me.” I seethe through my teeth as I kick off my shoes and make my way toward our bedroom.

“What d’you mean?” it’s almost precious, the confused look and the head tilt that greets me.

“Well now that everyone knows who I am, I didn’t want to risk being seen.” I see the moment of realisation.

“Oh fuck I completely forgot! I didn’t mean to I swear. I’m so sorry it just slipped out.”

“How do you slip up like that Chlo? That was our one agreement, our one rule. Fans would not know. God I’ve seen how cruel people are to player’s partners, I’ve seen couples break up because of fans. Chloe what the fuck!” I fall forward onto the bed and scream into the pillows.

“Well you never asked how I feel about having to hide my girlfriend from everyone! I get you want privacy and security of fans not knowing but I want to be able to celebrate with you after wins, or just rest in your arms after a loss, without worrying if someone will see. I want to be able to take you to big games and pull you onto the pitch and kiss you in front of everyone and show them how much I love you. It’s not fair that I have to pretend you mean nothing!” A tear leaks from my eye, and I soon start to sob. My shoulders shake and I can feel the puddle of tears get soaked up by the pillow.

I feel the dip of the bed beside me and Chloe’s arm wraps around me while her lips press light kisses against my back.

“I’m sorry. I want to be there for you too. Show the world I love you. I’m just scared. I’ve never really been seen by people outside of academics. I’m scared to just… be seen.” I roll over and pull Chloe down to rest her head against my chest, running my hands through her hair, untangling the small knots.

“I will love you no matter what. If you decide to continue keeping it private or if you, break up with me.”

“Chloe I will not fucking break up with you. I think- I think I want people to know. I want to love you properly.” Her head tilts up and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her lips.

~~~~~

“Chloe Kelly takes a shot… AND IT GOES IN. SHE SCORES THE WINNER IN THE 92ND MINUTE!!” I yell from the friends and family section as Chloe practices shots in front of me.

She turns dramatically toward me with a glare on her face, but I poke out my tongue and she breaks out into a smile. She makes the short jog over to me and pulls me into a kiss. A rather passionate one if you want to be specific. I grab her by the shirt and pull her close, kissing her harder as people around us jokingly cheer.

“See you after the game baby.” she pecks my lips once more before running back to her teammates who clap her on the back and tease her.

“That’s my girlfriend!” I scream and point, and the same people laugh along with me.

Thank god for media day.

[gurugirl]

Sneaky for part 3 of unicorn? I'm so excited guru you don't understand!

I'm so glad you're excited!!! I'm just over 4800 words into part 3 now. I'll give you a little something below the cut :) Thank you!!

I would give you guys more but there's so much going on in this part that some bits would just give too much away. Also this is raw from my drafts and not edited or proofread so the final version might look a little different. xoxo

Part 1 | Part 2

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game of darts which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The guy asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked back to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn to start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take some lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

Tags (for The Unicorn): @littlenatilda @harryspirate @itsmytimetoodream @princessaxoo @summertime-pills @egirlshit @chesthairrry @idontknowbi @f1n3l1n3 @tpwk-sophie @justtilly @fictionalmensblog @harrrystyles5 @gem1712

[maadsimming]

prismatic personalities legacy challenge <3

if you played our first challenge, WCGW, last year and enjoyed it then you will be happy to hear that we are back with another challenge! this challenge is for the game players to explore different jobs, aspirations, and ingame prompts they may not be aware of. and of course, we didn’t forget our storytellers! so make sure you pay attention to the descriptions for each colorful generation :)

welcome to our nine generation legacy challenge, “prismatic personalities”

CREATED BY @curioustraits AND @maadsimming

follow our stories @/darlingwhim and @/maad.persona over on instagram!

challenge rules:

each generation has a color for you to follow; the colors go along with the personalities of each gen so it is suggested that you follow the color schemes!

the colors of the spouses don’t matter. unless specifically stated in the rules, you can do whatever you please with them.

every generation has an optional rule to make the generation just a bit harder! as stated, these are optional so only do them if you’d like.

some generations will have relationship/family dynamics rules, however if none are stated, the relationships between all sims will be up to your interpretation!

some generations have child aspirations. you do NOT need to fully complete them, but you can if you’d like!

money cheats can be used, but shouldn’t be used excessively. suggestion: use the cheat, freerealestate on for your first home, but no cheats afterward.

your sims may live wherever you please unless the world is specified in the rules of a generation.

every heir should complete the rules, aspiration, and career of the generation.

if you do not have the required packs, you can opt out of certain rules or change them to fit as close as possible.

if you play this challenge and want to share it with us, make sure to post with #prismaticpersonalities so we can see! feel free to tag us as well: @curioustraits @/darlingwhim & @maadsimming @/maad.persona

generation rules under the cut !!

packs used: for rent, growing together, snowy escape, eco lifestyle, discover university, get famous, parenthood, spa day, nifty knitting.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation one: red ❤️

you've always been intense, passionate, first. from the second you were born, you let the world know that it revolved around you. your passion was always your best friend, seemingly letting everything fall into your hands... until it turned on you.

color: red

traits: romantic, erratic, self-assured

aspiration: villainous valentine

career: criminal (boss branch)

rules:

complete the villainous valentine aspiration

master the criminal career (boss branch)

master the mischief, handiness, and charisma skills

have the ‘difficult’ family dynamic with ALL of your children

only max out the romance bar with ONE love interest, but never date or marry them

(optional) never have any friendly relationships

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation two: orange 🧡

"patient... patient.. be patient!" is a word you knew as well as your name. but you were too determined to live life to it’s fullest, it CLEARLY had a lot more to offer in your eyes. can't be patient when you have places to be!

color: orange

traits: adventurous, party animal, self-absorbed

child aspiration: rambunctious scamp

aspiration: extreme sports enthusiast

career: entertainer (comedian branch)

rules:

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

gain the ‘irresponsible’ character value trait (bad responsibility)

complete the extreme sports enthusiast aspiration

master the entertainer career (comedian branch)

must live in mt komorebi

master the dancing, rock climbing, comedy, charisma, and snowboarding skills

adopt at least one of your children

have the ‘jokesters’ family dynamic with ALL of your children

never reject phone invites

(optional) never be in a negative mood

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation three: yellow 💛

your cheerful parent gave you a happy life, you would have never guessed how evil this world could be... until it was time to move on from your parent’s safe grasp. it didn't take long for you to realize how scary everything was, but that fear drove you to want to protect others- be a lawyer! save your clients!

color: yellow

traits: cheerful, paranoid, genius

aspiration: friend of the world

career: law (private attorney branch)

rules:

gain the ‘mediator’ character value trait (good conflict resolution)

gain the ‘emotional control’ character value trait (good emotional control)

complete the friend of the world aspiration

master the law career (private attorney branch)

master the research and debate, logic, charisma, writing, and parenting skills

move out after aging up to a young adult

have something tragic happen to someone close to you after you’ve moved out

have only ONE child

have the ‘close’ family dynamic with your child

only be friends with a small group, but have all of their friendship bars maxed out

(optional) go to university to get your language & literature degree before going into the law career

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation four: green 💚

you were always told that you should "take your own advice" but that never made sense to you. advice was meant to be given? what good does it do if it’s your own thoughts? either it was a severe case of empathy or self-blindness- you would listen to everyone except yourself. you needed some… serious growing up to do… emotionally. but hey! at least you can put all that advice to some good use!

color: green

traits: jealous/wise, nosy, vegetarian

child aspiration: slumber party animal

aspiration: seeker of secrets

career: education (professor branch)

rules:

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

gain the ‘uncontrolled emotions’ character value trait (bad emotional control)

complete the seeker of secrets aspiration

master the education career (professor branch)

master the research and debate, logic, charisma, and gardening skills

replace the jealous trait with the wise trait when aging up to an elder

get divorced (at any age) and then remarry the same sim as an elder

blackmail someone ONCE & then never do any other mean interactions

(optional) use the ‘simple living’ lot challenge

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation five: blue 💙

loser.. loner.. something along those lines. those were titles that seemed to always stick to you from childhood to adulthood. finally over it, you decided it was time for a change, a new style… haircut… job. you were ready to rip off the stickers of shame and embrace the new you... i mean, who doesn't want a new loyal friend??

color: blue

traits: loyal, loner, neat

child aspiration: artistic prodigy

aspiration: neighborhood confidante aspiration

career: style influencer (trendsetter branch)

rules:

gain the ‘good manners’ character value trait (good manners)

gain the ‘emotional control’ character value trait (good emotional control)

complete the neighborhood confidante aspiration

master the style influencer career (trendsetter branch)

master the writing, charisma, photography, painting, and media production skills

move to a different world after aging up to an adult

sell paintings as a side job

have no close friends until level 6 of your career

(optional) as an adult, become friends with someone who you had a bad relationship with as a child/teen

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation six: purple 💜

calm and peaceful... and just a little silly. that’s just who you are, and everyone knows it! you enjoy rooms full of laughter as much as you enjoy silent yoga. taking some passed down advice from an ancestor, you love living life to its full capacity- love, family and doing everything you possibly can. you don't even know the definition of boredom!

color: purple

traits: active, childish, creative

child aspiration: mind and body

aspiration: inner peace

career: athlete (professional athlete branch)

rules:

gain the ‘mediator’ character value trait (good conflict resolution)

gain the ‘bad manners’ character value trait (bad manners)

complete the inner peace aspiration

master the athlete career (professional athlete branch)

master the wellness, fitness, charisma, and video gaming skills

have two failed relationships as a young adult before marrying your highschool sweetheart

have the ‘permissive’ family dynamic with all of your kids

order pizza for dinner every friday night

(optional) apply for every competition (ex; lottery, gaming tournaments, etc)

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation seven: black 🖤

maybe it was the emotionally unavailable parent, or maybe your heart truly was just evil... but you always had a keen interest for the darker side of everything. everything in your life was dark and twisted... except... someone of pure light. was it a change of heart? was it love? were you sick... you didn’t know, but you surely understood that feeling pulling on your heart strings to protect this light.

color: black

traits: evil, snob, kleptomaniac

aspiration: public enemy

career: secret agent (diamond agent branch)

rules:

gain the ‘bad manners’ character value trait (bad manners)

gain the ‘irresponsible’ character value trait (bad responsibility)

complete the public enemy aspiration

master the secret agent career (diamond agent branch)

master the mischief, logic, charisma, programming, and your choice of instrument/singing skills

have ONLY one pair of twins

have the ‘close’ family dynamic with only one of your children, and have the ‘difficult’ family dynamic with the other child

steal something from every lot you visit

(optional) break into someone’s house at least once a week

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation eight: white 🤍

you’re pure. which is shocking coming from your long family line.. but you aren’t all perfect. that overbearing anxiousness of needing to live up to every expectation that’s been set from your lovely ancestors and all the people around you. you needed to start fresh, forget all those expectations! this is your life! and what better way to start fresh than... well... being a civil designer!

color: white

traits: perfectionist, socially awkward, good

child aspiration: social butterfly

aspiration: master maker

career: civil designer (civic planner branch)

rules:

gain the ‘responsible’ character value trait (good responsibility)

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

complete the master maker aspiration

master the civil designer career (civic planner branch)

master the fabrication, logic, handiness, charisma, and knitting skills

must live in evergreen harbor

befriend all of your neighbors

must vote every week for a positive neighborhood action plan

always stay in the green eco footprint

(optional) use the ‘off the grid’ lot challenge

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

generation nine: pink 🩷

LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION! …and some giggles. whenever you were a child and were asked "what will you be when you grow up?" you enthusiastically told them that you’d be on the big screen! and you meant it too! the first feeling of relief when you really were on the big screen will forever be your most prized memory. let’s just hope these feelings don’t fade away after a few years…

color: pink

traits: goofball, ambitious, generous

child aspiration: social butterfly

aspiration: master actor

career: actor

rules:

gain the ‘mediator’ character value trait (good conflict resolution)

gain the ‘compassionate’ character value trait (good empathy)

complete the master actor aspiration

master the actor career

master the acting, singing, and dancing skills

have pet(s) but only small dogs/animals

donate to charity every week

marry an ambitious sim

have a big family (4+ kids)

have the ‘close’ or ‘jokesters’ family dynamics with all of your children

(optional) become a global superstar and get a celebrity role on starlight boulevard

[eddiessluttywaist]

fluffy ending (as if)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: soft n sweet ending to part three of as if ♥️

pairing: bully!mean!perv!and soft!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 568 words

content/warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of smutty content MDNI (y/n is 18), brief angst (? mention of an argument), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), teasing. i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: uhm they’re so gross n cute…here you go!

part one - part two - start of part three

*

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day. It ended up out in the open during an argument a few months down the line after all your perverted, puppy love had its time to shine. At the start, he was in bitter denial no matter what you said that you had simply been surprised. Nervous. You were nervous. The idea of him possibly paying attention to you had just made you… shy. He wouldn’t have tried to ask you out at first anyways, considering at the time he was on the verge of turning 18 and you 16. And, had he known sooner, he still wouldn’t have been angelic by any means in your 18th year, but maybe he wouldn’t have been quite as excessive…?

When he admitted that in the cooldown of your fight, you were sheepish in your confession that you wouldn’t have wanted him to act all that differently—how he still acted when he wanted to turn you on. You loved the play. The teasing, the crude displays of his twisted affections because it matched you perfectly. It certainly wasn’t typical—then again, when was Eddie ever searching for typical—but you two found a way to make it better. After he made you upset again just a few weeks after that afternoon in his van, you two decided on a code word. Something you could blurt out or write on a piece of paper when you were too overwhelmed for the games, and he showed you an amount of respect and comfort every time in a way that still shocks you to this day.

So yes, Eddie Munson was still a bit of a bully when he wanted you wanted him to be. He still fucked you until you cried. He still made you cockwarm him when you were trying to focus on something. (Sometimes even just in the morning when you needed to feel him but both of you were too tired for sex.) He still flipped up your skirt at lunch, as if he hadn’t already seen what pair of panties you slid on that morning. He still left you filthy notes. He even shoved you against your locker… well… just to kiss you in between classes. He was still mean, he still made you pout, but only in a way that was agreed upon and could always be settled by not forgetting that damn kiss at the end of the day.

You both worked somehow, much to the chagrin of everyone around you. You two were inseparable and so… so disgusting to witness. So insatiable. So weird. The two of you were truly saccharine in your own way. And Eddie never saw it coming. If someone told him at the start of his (third) senior year that soon enough you’d be the one to make him grow soft; teach him how to be gentle; give him a reason to want to stay after the highs have settled; encourage him to fight that urge to deflect; make him want to stay up just to watch the way you breathed as you slept; and be the one to show him how to live (and live happily) with being completely and utterly lovesick… If someone told him any of that. Well… he would’ve scoffed out a rather simple response.

Yeah. As if.