#gentle readers

[isevery0nehereverystoned]

Andrew my little strudel Page of Cups

[annoyingvoidzombie]

So Bridgerton trailer has blessed us, a month away from the actual HALF (Wtf) third season.

We have KAntony, we have some heartbroken Penelope, lots of shirtless Colin and many more “matters of the heart” with mama violet.

From “friends” to lovers.

[dovesndecay]

me, yelling into the fridge: "I. Am. Tired."

roomie: "so go to bed?"

me, closing the fridge: "I'm. Not. Tired!"

[mikkeneko]

Decided to make this a poll because I'm genuinely unsure how other author folks feel about this particular case!

If you are a writer, please reblog for larger sample size!

[tojisun]

cockwarming price in his office but it’s all about the visceral need to be closer. it’s sensual, yes, but it’s not teasing nor desperate; just him rubbing your back as you sink down his cock, swallowing it whole and letting it nestle deep in you. he murmurs his praises, affection heavy on his tongue, before he continues his work; sorting out files with monotony, if not for the way you’re wrapped around him, so warm, so good. you breathe through your mouth, your cheeks tingling with warmth at every twitch because god, john’s reaching so far and so deep in you; it’s both so much and not enough. your nails bite at his fatigues as you try to nuzzle closer. and it’s all this dizzying buzzing warmth—skin against skin, muscle against muscle, his bulk against your fat.

[scuderiahoney]

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. ���We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

[blondedmuse]

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE (BEAUTIFUL PROBLEMS)

synopsis. ꩜ how felix comforts you.

author’s note. ∿ i wanted to write something (kind of) short and angsty so here’s this

When Felix woke up his skin was cold, lacking the warmth your body gave him in the night, his arms holding onto the ghost of you. He lifted his body from his bed, his eyes in search of his room for any trace you you. He couldn’t find anything. He checked the room you were assigned when you first arrived at Saltburn and you weren’t there either—not that you used it anyways. So, he walked downstairs to the dining room assuming you were at the table eating breakfast. While everyone ate at approximately at the same time it was in Felix’s nature to be a little fashionably late.

His assumptions were correct as you sat for the meal, looking down at your food. It was when you looked up at him he noticed something innately wrong, unable to ignore how your eyes were tainted red as they flit around the room, unable to hold his gaze. You hadn’t said much other than please and thank you the entire time, ultimately excusing yourself early, the sound of your feet resounding throughout the house as you walked back upstairs.

“Is she okay?” Venetia subtly whispered to Felix and he shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know,” He responded seriously. Elsbeth gave her son a look of concern, the green light that it was acceptable to excuse himself.

“If I may, I’m going to excuse myself to check on her.” His parents nodded and he followed the same way you went. He eventually traced you back to the bathroom that separated your two rooms, peeking in the door when he heard your figure slosh in the water of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly and you nodded. Your knees were to your chest as you held a cigarette in your hand. Felix kneeled beside you, replacing the cig with his hand, putting it out on the ash tray beside the bath it seemed you brought with you. His thumb massaged your hand in silence as if it would magically ease whatever was devastating you—it didn’t, but it calmed the both of you to know that it helped.

“Do you want me to join you?” He mouthed, quieter than the previous question as you looked at him again. Still you didn’t say anything, only nodding as he reluctantly released your hand to remove the clothing from his body. You moved from your position momentarily to make room for him in the bath, sitting in his lap once he was submerged with you.

He didn’t push you to talk but there was something so concerning, persuasive about the look in his eyes you almost felt guilty for staying quiet. Felix would never intend to make you feel that way, there was just something about him that made you want to open your heart to him knowing that he’d keep it safe.

The thought alone made your eyes water like they had earlier that morning, the reason why you left him in bed alone. You rested your head on his chest as you cried, Felix’s arms around you, rubbing at your back as you did so. His head rested atop yours, cringing to himself each time he felt it shake from a sob.

“I’m right here, okay?” He mumbled into your hair. His statement made it seem like he was a few doors down or right next to you, but in truth his body was wrapped around yours, protecting you like a shield from anything that threatened to hurt you. He knew he couldn’t, but right now it was the best he could do.

[sadsstoptalkingfr]

Reader being the first person to treat Spencer gently...

Reader who buys Spencer things that remind her of him while she's out and about just because she knows he'll like it (he'd keep every single pointless item you give him

Reader who shuts people down when Spencer doesn't speak up for himself and saying things like "he doesn't want to go" people who don't know the two well would think she's being controlling when she's just looking out for him

Reader who constantly reminds him of his worth and won't give him room to think about how he doesn't deserve her.

Reader who wants to help Spencer heal his inner child by taking care of him and taking him to do all the things he wanted to do as a kid

Reader who always holds Spencer hand tightly whenever he's beside her. (Headcanon that he hates gentle touches and perfurs pressure)

He loves you like a dog

[the-fluff-piece]

Sexy Headcanon -

How they like to go down on you

Law, Sanji, Zoro all have different techniques licking pussy

This is an 18+ headcanon, so minors don't read, don't interact

Like this one? Check out my headcanon masterlist and my Story masterlist

Law

He's fully (for his standard) clothed and stays that way

Beforehand he studied the clitoris intensively, he knows where all the sensitive parts are

He doesn't like it as foreplay. He likes leading you away to some corner in the middle of the day to yank your pants down or push your skirt up, get on his knees in front of you and lick you through your panties before moving them aside

He likes his hands under your shirt, massaging and pinching your breasts as his tongue gets to work on your pussy

He's methodical and mindblowingly slow, he knows he gets you there and likes to make to you ask for more, faster and harder

When he decides that you've begged enough, he gives it to you with all of his ability. His mouth sucking on your clitoris, stroking with his tongue and fucking you with his fingers. He also likes to remind you that there's people nearby and you should keep quiet

He loves to look you in the eyes when you cum

When you're finished and exhausted, he gives you a hot, wet kiss before returning to whatever he's been doing. He'll be looking at your reddened face with a knowing grin.

Zoro

He's a man of carnal tastes and high intensity, it's not enough for him to just pleasure you with his mouth, he likes to get his cock sucked simultaneously - so you'll have to straddle his face and get down on him, too

The man also has no sense of pacing, he starts how he feels like and if that's full force, you'll have to deal with it

Beware! The bastard bites, nibbles and sucks so hard you will definitely get marks

His wicked tongue is practically everywhere, inside and outside you. His mouth is always hot

He's grunting louder than you

He allows himself to cum only after satisfying you

Once is never enough, when he's finished with mouth stuff, he's immediately hard again and ready to fuck

Sanji

First, he always freezes and stares ar your pussy. He never gets enough of your sight. Your most tender and sensitive part, there for him to please and enjoy

He begins slowly and cautiously, he doesn't want to hurt you. His tongue is exploring every fold with slow curiosity while his blue eyes are fixed on your face to asses what brings you the most pleasure

When he found the way that makes you moan loudly, he won't stop until you come, enjoying your moans and your taste, stroking himself because it's so hot to him. It really gets him going to bring you pleasure, he moans against your flesh as he sucks and licks you with increasing intensity

Actually, he finishes first, whimpering as he comes on the sheets, but he doesn't stop, he takes your thighs into his hands to lift your hips up and becomes a wild slumbering mess. His face is pressed so closely to your pussy that you feel his beard tickling you.

When you cum for him, he's happy and exhausted and cuddles your chest to be praised

[barbiiedom]

if you came too fast you can just eat me out, baby, it’s okay <3

[caitlinbueckers]

told you so.

kate martin x reader

2.9k

woooooh this is a fucking doozy guys. literally received one (1) anon and then i blacked out for an hour and a half soooo here’s this ! realized during this journey that kate martin means an unfathomable amount to me and it’s like . Actually concerning 🔥🔥

ANYWAYS it’s giving Kate martin’s controversially hidden girlfriend that goes lowk public at the wnba draft like SHUT UP

18+ AS FUCK

“babe, quit looking at me like that.”

if there’s one thing you know, above the fact that you were certain there was gonna be an unsuspected draft tonight, was that kate martin could be such a bitch in the morning.

not that this was new for you, in any sense— you’d been more than used to it since the dawn of your relationship, learning all the little things about her that made her tick. whether that was her favorite to least favorite foods, or teams, even her obsession with fucking hot sauce.

you knew she still slept with her childhood blankie, the one currently curled under her chin atop the hotel comforter because she’s ridiculous, and because nobody has ever and would ever disrespect her blankie game.

and above all, you knew how much she wasn’t a morning person.

“you’re so dramatic,” you snort, pushing yourself up onto your elbows with a tired, but mocking voice as she emits a slow groan, turning to shove her face into the pillow, her body curling away from yours in an act of indignance that only makes you laugh.

you were far too used to her acting like a baby, so the action only made you sit up on your knees, slinging a leg over her so you could straddle her sides, leaning down to pepper kisses against the side of her face as she lets out a string of groans that turn into halfhearted chuckles, until her hands are planted firmly against your thighs, bare due to the oversized IOWA shirt that she insisted on you wearing.

‘for good luck,’ you remembered her snickering, something you knew was really just ‘easy access’.

her voice is still hoarse from sleep, quiet and raspy and tinged with that midwestern accent that you’ll never give up on bullying her for, when she whispers, “dude, you’re so annoying.”

of course, she proves it by hoisting you off of her, onto the bed, simulating something like a WWE smackdown moment as she rolls over onto you, mumbling something that you really can’t decipher due to her face in your neck, your chest, basically every place she knows will pull that hysterical, annoyingly high pitched laugh out of you, that for some reason, she loves.

“can’t believe you made it here.” she murmurs quietly against your cheek, lips moving lazily against the skin before she lays a smacking kiss there, and it’s almost gross, how much saliva she uses, but you snicker anyway, hand coming up to stroke through her blonde strands.

in all honesty, you couldn’t really believe it either. it had been soemthing close to hell trying to get it all straightened out, from clothes to hotels, to transportation and getting from des moines to brooklyn, not to mention just how fucking exclusive it had been to even get a seat open with all the hype surrounding women’s college basketball, the posterity that the final four teams had brought to the sport— not to mention, the fact that you and kate weren’t public in the fucking slightest, so having to account for that definitely sucked.

of course, it was a huge accomplishment, one that would definitely go down in the history of sports in general, so of course it was a huge fucking honor that your girlfriend was apart of it—

but also, you just thought it was hot.

in fact, the thought makes you smirk to yourself, corners of your mouth curling upwards in a self righteous grin as you turned your head, bumping noses with her to whisper, “can’t wait to see you all dressed up, baby,” she snickers at that, and you kiss her lips once, twice, three times before continuing, “and, i can’t wait to see where you get drafted so i can buy myself a plane ticket.”

the subsequent groan you receive is expected, but it doesn’t deter you even slightly, “and to watch you play on a professional fucking team, like, kate, i’m basically wet thinking about it right now.”

that makes her laugh out loud, and it warms you just a bit to hear it.

it’s not like kate has been super confident about it recently, usually choosing to not speak or avoid talking about how bad she wants it— especially considering the night being mainly for caitlin, an old teammate of yours from school and one of kate’s best friends on the squad, and arguably, one of the best players in the league (next to kate, of course).

still, it didn’t change your focus, or the unyielding hope you had for the possibility of kate getting drafted— no matter how late in the draft it could be.

“babe, quit selling yourself short, okay? you’re a legend. it would be literally, fucking stupid to pass you up, okay?” she doesn’t respond at first, her eyes closed and lashes brushing her cheeks, before she flutters them open just a crack, blue peeking through as you offer her a grin, one that she only rolls her eyes to, but kisses you regardless. you knew how much she hated to talk about it, but it didn’t matter.

you knew you were right, anyway.

“mmmiloveyou.” it comes out in one smushed whisper against your mouth, before you nip at her bottom lip, hand sneaking under the sports bra she wore to bed to brush your thumb across her ribcage, “get off of me and get ready, okay?”

—

caitlin was top draft pick, which was heavily speculated and yet still unexpected to a degree as you stood from your seat with a cacophony of shouts and hollers from around you, pride swelling thick in your chest. you’d known the girl since you two had been in middle school— seeing the same tall little girl that had hated losing in an elementary school gym turn into such an infamous champion was something alike to a parent watching their kid go off to college or something, you’d swear it.

but, to say it was nothing short of nervewracking would somehow be an understatement, and as much as you felt the impending pressure with each name called, you could only imagine how kate must’ve felt.

it wasn’t hard to tell— the way her molars steadily worked the inside of her cheek, the way her tongue would dart out to wet her lips again and again. her hand, jittering too much to be held stationary within your own, drumming along your bare thigh beside your dress— ‘self soothing’, she’d explained in a whisper, a halfhearted, almost weakened smile on her face when you’d given her a lifted eyebrow at the hand placement considering the amount of cameras that surrounded you, but somehow, despite the rush of adrenaline, decided you didn’t care either.

thankfully, you both weren’t anywhere too accessible, but it still made you wonder whether kate had been bullshitting just how anxious she actually had been the whole time for her to need your touch so badly, and for an aching moment of tenderness as you glance at her, you want to kiss her, hard, rub the tension between her eyebrows, relax the trouble in her eyes.

still, gabbie and jada were good eyes too, considering anytime the camera would so much as even pan past you two, jada would hit you with a solid elbow, one to remind you that your poker face was shit, and perhaps you’d have to try just a little harder to pretend you weren’t totally, irrevocably in love with the woman beside you.

but slowly, it was all starting to click into place.

the cameras began panning to kate more and more, your own eyes flickering to the set and noticing how everytime you’d look, there’d be an official looking right past you, right at kate. a surge of excitement rose within you, one that had the words bubbling from your mouth in an urgent whisper,

“baby, i think—“

until an official, dressed in black with a wireless pair of headphones in each ear and a smile, touched kate’s shoulder.

“ms. martin, we’re gonna go ahead and have you and your party move down the aisle just a bit— there’s been a slight seating issue, if that’s okay with you guys?”

jada elbows you extra hard this time, and for some reason it solidifies that feeling you get, one that makes your heart leap as you all nod, getting to your feet without argument, only as kate turns to give you a look that’s supposed to be scolding, but fuck, you can see the glimmer of hope in it that makes your chest constrict, your eyes burn in pride.

“you’re giving me eyes, and for what?” she hums, the teeth against her cheek working overtime as you all settle into the new seats, kate at the end of the aisle, and a fluttery feeling in your chest, “no reason.” you say it almost smugly, as if you know something she doesn’t, and you don’t, but god, you can feel it.

the names fly off, left and right, number 16, and kate’s knee starts bouncing slightly, number 17 and your heart feels like it’s going way too fucking fast, number 18, and jada peers around you to glance at kate, and then…

las vegas, aces— kate martin.

if watching caitlin win had felt like a parent watching their child, this must’ve been adjacent to winning the fucking lottery.

you’re on your feet in mere seconds, the tears that had built finally dripping down your cheeks, a fact you’d only come to find embarrassing once you realize how visible they are on the playback, but fuck it, your girl was going pro.

she wastes no time in wrapping you up, her face ducking into your shoulder as your arms twine around her middle, thinking subconsciously of how you know you shouldn’t risk it, but kate doesn’t seem to mind, only releasing you with a single arm to embrace jada, and then gabbie, before she’s back to you.

of course, it doesn’t occur to you in the moment, that it’s a hard launch— no, it doesn’t really sink in until she kisses you hard against the temple before she’s breezing down the aisle, the subsequent eruption in applause leaving you starstruck, in silent awe.

after that, it’s somewhat of a blur— she takes her picture and accepts her jersey, the newscasters going off on some spiel about your girlfriends work ethic, her attitude, her endurance, everything you already fucking knew, had known for so long, that she’d finally have a chance to prove.

the moment she’s back beside you, it also doesn’t register to you that she must’ve been just as accepting about the reveal, because it’s only a second that she’s in her seat before she plants a soft kiss to your mouth, the dark lipstick you’d been steadily biting off in anxiety sticking to hers and she’s grinning, bigger than she had all day, and for a moment, you think you might actually collapse because god,

you love her. so fucking much.

“told you so,” you make out between the tears, smiling through the tightness in your voice that makes you sound warbled, whimpering even as she just laughs at you, her thumb careful to wipe beneath your eyes, “guess you did.”

of course, it’s only customary that after such a good night, everyone must get fucked up— so, that’s exactly what happens.

you get to gush to caitlin— hugging her tight around the neck and congratulating her a million times, to which she reciprocates when it comes to you and kate, garnering a blush on your already alcohol flushed cheeks, rolling your eyes as you punch her arm.

“whatever, fever.”

“whatever, ‘ace’.”

you pretend you don’t notice the quotations she puts around it, and give her a friendly middle finger instead— if kate was an ace, that meant you basically were too, at least by proxy.

“hey money,” you call to kate affectionately, seeing only the back of her head as she talks to gabbie, your arms sliding around her waist to hold her tight from behind.

“my love,” she greets with a smile, looking over her shoulder to pucker her lips at you, expecting a kiss that you so easily return. it feels fucking terrifying, in all honesty, to be so open, but you can’t find it within you to care enough to give it up— not when she’s this happy.

“dude, you totally knew, didn’t you? there’s no way you would’ve started crying like that unless you knew.” she’s drunk, chattering at a volume level beyond what’s needed considering you were right behind her, hand sneaking beneath her blazer, but you can’t help the way you shrug, “i’m always right, huh?”

later that night, she shows you just how right you are.

it’s past a decent hour to still be tugging off clothes from the night prior— the clock read four in the morning, but the windows spoke of the twinkling lights that surrounded, the city not quite awake, but never asleep.

“you’re a pro,” you hum against her mouth as you tug off her blazer, hands making quick work of the belt that kept you from exploring, smirking at the look she gives you, daring and all too fucking sexy, “it’s so hot to think about.”

“yeah?” her fingers hook beneath the straps of the dress until she’s dragging them down your shoulders, “you want me to show you how professionals do it?”

the next thing you know she’s between your legs, nothing but a white top and her slacks on, unbuttoned, as she hikes a leg over her shoulder, kisses along the inside of your thigh with an intensity only comparable to how she is after a really good game.

“fuck—!” it leaves your mouth in a sound that’s almost unrecognizable, the realization that you’d been pleasantly and uncomfortably horny ever since the draft had ended making itself known considering just how much kate had been unrelenting during press— hands on your hips or on the inside of your thigh, toying with the hair on the back of your neck or grasping the inside of your elbow to lead you along.

she knew it drove you crazy, you knew she’d make it up to you later.

her mouth makes easy work on you, tongue long and flat as she laps against your cunt, rough in all the ways that she knew you could handle— thumbs pressing fingerprint bruises into your skin, breath hot and heavy against your clit, hips moving on their own accord as you gasp out a string of incoherent whimpers. “shit, baby- just… just like that.”

it wasn’t like kate had ever failed at getting you off, but tonight, she performed as if it was her last game, greedy almost as she drinks you in, making sure to not leave one bit of you unchecked. her tongue is almost sinful in the way it makes your voice careen, high and whining, your hand finding a permanent tangle into her already mussed hair.

but she’s cocky tonight, presumptuous right before you orgasm as she raises her head to kiss your thigh, biting the skin before she’s climbing onto the bed beside you, too tall to be graceful, but you’re too fucking horny to even spare her the laughs you usually give.

“up, c’mere.” she’s breathless still, but she doesn’t let you rest for even a second, leaning across you to curl her fingers around your thigh to tug you up from your laying position, rousing you from the hazy, almost delirious state of mind as you push yourself up, letting out a shaking breath when she’s sliding your leg over her chest, hands grazing up the back of your thighs until she’s pulling you, right over over her mouth.

“kate, wha- you’re so— fuck.”

any semblance of words or sense seem to leave you in one second, as she flattens her tongue against the wetness that’s collected, the friction almost unbearable when her head tilted upwards, nose brushing hard against your clit in a way that pulls a cry from your lips. she’s unfaltering, diligent, unabashed in the way she’s moving your hips, the way she pairs each grind against her nose with a curl of her tongue, and really, it’s over before it fucking starts.

her mouth is glossy, damp when she’s done, and she smiles and it’s arrogant as she’s sliding you back down to sit you against her hips, the mere control she had of your body making you bright red as you pant pathetically, reduced to fucking nothing by her mouth.

it makes you throw your head back with a whimpering sigh, “don’t fucking look at me like that.” you complain, legs still open, thighs still trembling as she races her hands along them, “tired already?”

funnily enough, you were far from fucking tired.

“actually… was thinking about showing you some celebrity treatment?” you muse softly, as she peels off her own top, eyebrows raising, her thumb swiping along the edge of her lip before she’s placing it on the bottom of yours, pressing until it dips into your mouth, the heady taste of what you knew was yourself finding a place on your tongue.

she smirks, tongue poking between her teeth as your stomach fucking turns almost, arousal prickling unforgivingly at you once again.

“ooh,” she muses under her breath, eyes laser focused on the thumb she’d placed between your lips, voice coming out in a whisper, “i like the sound of that.”

she’s smirking though, because sex between you two have never been anything completely serious— that’s just not how kate operates, “ace money martin’s got a ring to it, huh?”

“shut up.”

“make me.”

so, you do.

[fandomnerd9602]

Y/N puts their hand on Wanda’s face…

Wanda: Y/N? What are you doing?

Y/N: Natasha said you like face touches.

Natasha just laughs from the corner…

Wanda: well I do but-

Y/N tries to move their hand away, Wanda immediately grabs it and puts it back…

Wanda: I didn’t tell you to stop

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 4

Summary: After their reunion at the Atomic Wrangler, Cooper decides that he wants more than just a quickie out of his wandering trader.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Warnings. Drug use and Alcohol. Fluff and Smut. Little longer than the other ones ❤️

DHGP Masterlist

Cooper sits on the side of the bed, inhaler in hand as he stares down at the chem. You are still asleep behind him, body tangled in the sheets, exhausted after the exciting reunion between the two of you. You had been a breath of fresh air for the ghoul, especially after finding out the truth behind the fate of his family, and then Lucy, the vaultie, had left him too. Gone back home to her vault to save them from those goddamn Bud's Buds.

Cooper had elected to stay in Vegas. He likes the city, and the booze was cheap, and the chems were even cheaper if you knew where to get them. However, now that the ghoul was borderline sober, and with you by his side, Cooper realized that he'd had something to look forward to. To live for again. You.

Every time the two of you had crossed paths, you never failed to send the ghoul's black heart racing. You were a wastelander through and through, but you were good, and Cooper didn't want to let that go. No. He would hold on tight, and nothing in heaven or hell would get him to let you go.

First thing first, however, was to show you that he was serious and that he cared for you beyond a quick fuck and drug transactions. Cooper turned in the bed and leaned over you, tucking his knuckle under your chin and kissing you until you woke up. A soft sigh escaped you when the ghoul pulled away, and you opened your eyes to see him above you.

"Well, that's one way to wake a girl up," you murmur, and shift to your back, opening your arms so that Cooper can fall against your chest, his face pressed in the crook of your neck. You hum softly and press a kiss to his bald head, "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Cooper buries himself against you, shoving his arms under you so that he can hold you close. He listens to your heartbeat, and the sound of content he makes sounds more like a cat purr than anything else. He debates with himself before deciding to hell with it.

"Let me take you out. On a proper date," He began, and the more he spoke, the more he felt like his old self, Cooper Howard, before the end of the world, "You deserve it after everything you've done for me."

You eyed him, though your lips were already turning up at the idea. Who knew your ghoul was such a romantic? You tilt your head to the side, "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Cooper rises to his elbow and admires how your hair halos around your face. You are beautiful, even sleepy-eyed, and dressed in nothing but your panties.

"We're in Vegas, Baby. Let's make the most of it."

~~~~~

Mick and Ralph's had a surprising number of preserved prewar clothing, and you picked through the dresses looking for the perfect fit. You spotted a cute, blue number that would hug you in all the right places and billow out at the waist. Mick even had a cute pair of kitten heels that he gave you on the house.

Cooper had also done some digging around and conveniently found one of his old set costumes. The colors were faded, but they looked brand new compared to the get-up he always wore. Dressed to impress, the ghoul admired himself in the cracked mirror. If you ignored the obvious, Cooper looked like he'd just come off set of A Man and His Dog.

He wold whistles when you step out of the back room, and even though you're custom to his flirty behavior, you still blush bright and give Cooper a tiny grin. You've never had an opportunity to wear something so nice before, and it made you feel different, but not in a bad way.

"Well, look at you, Darlin'. All dressed up and beautiful for little ol' me," He crooned and snagged your hand, spinning you in a slow circle so that he could admire you from all angles. You give him a smile so full of fond amusement that Cooper’s heart stutters in his chest.

"Only for you, Cowpoke," you say and curl your hand behind his head to tug him down for a quick kiss that Cooper melts into.

After paying Mick and Ralph, Cooper escorts you to the gate of the Strip where the securitrons let the two of you by after flashing the passports you'd paid the shop owners for. Inside, the flashing neon lights made you squint, and you did your best to take it all in at once.

"A lot's changed since the last time I've been here," Cooper comments and casts his gaze around. It's been over two hundred years, but the Vegas Strip still felt the same. The two of you bypass Gomorrah and the Ultra Lux, and instead, head for the Tops where a man with blonde, slicked-back hair greets them with a suave grin.

"Hey, hey cats. My name is Swank. Welcome to the Tops Casino. The floor is open, and Tommy's got some real class acts tonight on stage if you're interested."

The two of you hand over any weapons that couldn't be concealed and head upstairs to the theater. A live band is playing on stage, and a place has been cleared in the middle of the room for dancing. Cooper leads you to a corner booth and drops to kiss your brow before he lopes off to order you both a drink.

From there, the night goes off without a hitch. The two of you drink til you feel tipsy and brazen enough to tug the ghoul out to the dance floor where Cooper upstages you and everyone else there. He twirls and dips you, leaving you a giggling mess and eyes only for him.

At some point, Cooper gets the grand idea to spend some caps on some chips, and you stand beside him as he cleans the blackjack table, coming away with more chips that you have to help him carry back to the exchange desk. The two of you eventually stumble out of the Tops and mosied back down the road to Gomorrah.

Their weapons are confiscated once more, and Cooper pays the receptionist for a hotel room for later on. He doubted that they would be sober enough to leave this place later on.

His hunch was right hours later when the two of you stumbled to the elevator. Coop's arm is tight around your waist, holding you close to keep you from tipping over. You cling to him, giggling as you wind your arms around his neck, and he catches your eyes, glassy from the jet that one of the dancers had given you.

"Your eyes are so pretty, ya know that?" You slur, and Cooper snickers as he leads you out of the elevator and down the hall to the room he'd rented. He's not nearly as gone as you, but he chalks that up to being used to the substance abuse.

You plop on the bed and reach back for the zipper of your dress, feeling too constricted in the blue fabric, and get stuck with it halfway off. Cooper laughs at you and comes to help, tugging the dress away and tossing it behind him before he pounces.

His lips meet yours in a slow kiss, a gentle give and take that turns heated when you bite his lip hard enough to hurt. You sooth it with your tongue, and groan when Cooper curls his own around the slippery muscle, the kiss wet and sloppy. He looms over you, keeping himself propped up with his elbow, while his other hand grips your waist, and rocks his hips down.

Cooper groans into the kiss when his clothed cock meets the heat between your thighs. You buck against him, whining into the kiss and demanding he take his damn pants off already.

"Patience, young grasshopper," Cooper rumbles above you and slides off the bed to button his shirt and jeans. He folds them almost reverently before he turns back to the bed and crawls on top of you, "Great things come to those who wait."

You scoff at him, though your lips are tilted up in amusement, "I've been waiting forever, Coop."

Your legs fall open and wrap around his waist. You are so wet that the ghoul can see slick glistening in the low light of the room where it clings to your puffy folds. He swallows harshly when you reach down and spread them, giving him an excellent view of your clit and twitching hole.

"Now I want you to fuck me like you mean it."

Cooper doesn't need to be told twice and spits in his hand before wrapping it around his cock and stroking himself twice before he lines up and sinks down to his balls. Your cunt throbs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, and he falls forward, hips humping forward as you cling to him.

Coop fucks you like it's his last day on Earth. He shifts to his knees, and his cock slips even further, pressing against something inside you that makes stars shatter. You curse loudly, Cooper’s name falling from your lips like a mantra as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and bends you over. The new position makes it hard to breathe, but all you want is more.

"'M close," Cooper grunts in your ear, and you lock your knees around his head, meeting him thrust for thrust as you work for your release. He unlocks his jaw and bites into the hollow of your throat. The pain is enough to send you over the edge, your pussy fluttering and gushing around the ghoul's cock.

"Ah-fuck," He snarls and follows you right over the edge, pumping you full of seed until it dribbled out from your stuffed cunt. He finds your lips kissing you as he rides out his orgasm, hips jerking when you tighten around him.

Cooper lays there, breathing you in and curling his arms tight around your waist. He is far too tired to move, and you don't seem to mind the extra weight with how tightly you hold him back. The ghoul feels at peace as if a part of his life he'd been missing has slotted back into place. He raises his head just enough to catch your eyes, and you reward him with an adoration-filled smile, but it's your words that cause his heart to explode like an atomic bomb.

"I love you."

You don't expect Cooper to pull you in for another kiss, this one soft and slow. He rests his brow against yours and wonders how he ever made it this far without you.

"I love you, too."

Holy moly, that got way sweeter than I intended. I hope you enjoyed it!❤️

[tojisun]

(this is def inspired by htgawm s4e7 but) simon is totally the type to propose to you in a way that is quite mundane, if not a little unexpected.

thinking about simon taking you out for lunch by the cafe close to your work; you ordered a light lunch, paired it with iced coffee, and simon scrunches his nose in mortification but backs off with a chuckle when you tell him he can’t say shit after ordering steak and paired it with a cup of tea.

and you’re within the moment of recounting your morning, waving your hands around in excitement as you tell him about completing a project given to you by your supervisor, when simon just gets hit with this realization. this feeling that pulses within his heart—“you. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

so, while you’re lost in your story, simon plucks out the discarded straw wrap you tore off for your drink, and hides his hands underneath the table. he twists the paper, makes soft tears to cut it shorter, and pinches the ends so they stick together as best as they can. it’s sloppy but it’s a circle, small enough to fit around your finger.

“so,” you begin, sipping on your coffee. “what’cha hiding under there?”

simon shoots you a cheeky smile. “oh but you’ve seen it, haven’t you, lovie?”

you groan, chucking a balled-up tissue paper his way. “y’r gross.”

“that’s not what you were crying last night,” he playfully snarks back with a quirked up brow. your cheeks burn and you duck down to hide from his knowing gaze, trying desperately to tamp down the laugh that is making your lips twitch.

simon chuckles, shaking his head softly, trying to pretend that his heart isn’t quite literally lodged in his throat right now, before coughing lightly to capture your attention again. you give it to him readily with a small and confused smile dancing on your lips, and your eyes crinkled in the way that makes him swoon.

“si?” you ask, a little worried now that he just sits on in his silence. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” simon replies, a little breathless. “more than ‘okay’, actually. i’m-” he pauses, clearing his throat, his fingers still playing with the straw wrapping.

you watch as he breathes in deeply before his posture straightens and then he is pulling his hand out from under the table. you blink your eyes down to his hand where, pinched between his fingers, is the straw wrapping twisted and pinched to look like a small ring.

“this is a placeholder for the real one, s’just that i’ve always wanted to ask you when the timing is right but every time i’m with you always seemed to be the right time so…”

simon’s eyes are unwavering—they are pools of gentle storms—but you notice the way his hand trembles, taken by tremors that would have made you worry if his words had not seized your beating heart and cradled it with such tenderness that you feel like weeping.

“will you marry me?”

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Cont of this

*Wails profusely at the idea of reader walking in on Katsuki and baby play fighting in the nursery*

==================================

The thick mahogany door separating your hall to your living room creaked loudly as you pushed it open before kicking off your shoes. You sigh in relief; you adored your friends, but by god could Mina and Denki talk.

“Katsuki? Keiko? I’m home my babies!” You shouted into the silence of your usually noisy home, before realising that Keiko could be down for a nap.

The delicious aromatic smell of Katsuki’s noodles filtered through the air and enticed you to your spotless kitchen. A small note was left on your kitchen island with Katsuki’s neat handwriting.

Hope you had a good time out with the losers, food’s in the fridge and Kei had his bottle. We’re probably upstairs in the nursery

- love, Ki

You smiled at his loving note, before prepping the food and tucking in.

==================================

After the delectable dish of noodles and vegetables, you meandered your way up the stairs to the large nursery you had for Keiko. You crept the white door open slowly, before tears started pricking at your eyes.

Katsuki was laying on the floor with your chunky baby resting on his chest with a tiny Dynamight costume on. Katsuki was making Keiko punch his face, revelling in his laughter.

“What the hell?! Why is this hero so damn strong?!” He pretended to be scared as he gently manoeuvred Keiko’s tiny fists to make contact with his cheeks. Keiko was giggling away, drooly mouth flashing his proud daddy his singular tooth. Katsuki let out little “pew pew” and “whoopash” noises at every point of contact.

“No more Mr Hero! I’m too weak, don’t punch me again!” He faked groans of pain as he repeatedly made Keiko punch his cheeks, before delivering the final blow.

Katsuki slumped his head to the side as he made convincing sounds of death.

“Blehhhhggg,” he moaned as he died. Keiko laughed loudly as he tried to plunge for his daddy. Katsuki let out his own laugh as he snuggled his baby closer to him.

“This certainly looks like naptime,” you laughed out loud as Katsuki jumped.

“Uhhh. He woke up?” He offered, embarrassed you saw him admit defeat for his son. You shook your head playfully as you approached your two heroes.

You picked Keiko up as he cooed in your arms.

“You did a wonderful job of beating your daddy up, Keiko,” you nuzzled your face into his slightly pink cheeks, earning a babble.

Katsuki smiled widely at his family before groaning at the way his legs had gone numb from the assault from his son. He joined your hug, swaying the three of you softly together. Katsuki pressed small kisses to each of you as Keiko burbled away. You nuzzled your face into Katsuki’s neck, smiling when you feel him smile back.

“I missed you both today,” you murmured. Katsuki continued to smile.

“We missed you too, didn’t we little guy?” He nudged Keiko, who yawned sleepily in response. He rubbed his eyes before nestling into you, breaths slowly deepening as you gave him a gentle goodnight kiss.

“Time for a real nap now, isn’t it sweetheart?” You murmured, giving your husband a pointed look, who only let out a breathy laugh.

“Ain’t my fault he’s a damn good hero.”

[wifeyoozi]

🍚 boyfriend!woozi headcanons (sfw + nsfw) this accidentally came out so sweet pls I am down bad sucker for softcore uji

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who's tsundere™ like literally head over heels for you but keeps a straight face about it

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who's almost constantly thinking of you no matter what he's doing making it so hard for him to work sometimes (figuratively and literally)

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who regularly calls you when he's on tour and keeps you on video call whenever he's free even if you two aren't talking

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who casually gets you little and big gifts and acts nonchalant about it when internally he's literally melting from the way you burst of joy, even if it's just a cat keychain he gifted you.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who does not shut up about how amazing his girlfriend is to all of his friends almost without realising it

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who's literally so grateful to have you in his life and is so serious about it he literally thanks God to let him have you in his life.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who loves nothing more than holding you in his arms and everytime he holds you, it looks like he's holding his whole world in his arms (he pretty much is)

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who's shy to even hold your hand in public but will NOT stop touching you and clinging on you whenever you're home

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who's heart literally melts when you come to his studio with warm (homemade) food to take care of him when he doesn't take care of himself.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who feels all of his stress evaporate when he looks at your smile.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who loves kissing you and making you feel loved in the bed you share.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who's a service dom and makes every night you spend intimately only about you, loves making you feel like you are the most beautiful thing in the world

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who is practically a god at making you cum, he's THAT good with his mouth, fingers and dick

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who knows how rarely he gets to take you properly in bed with his busy schedule so he makes sure you're pleasured all night long, putting you to sleep only around early morning after a good aftercare and cuddling.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who cannot fall asleep as peacefully unless you are cuddling against him like a bear, making him feel all warm and loved and safe.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who tends to get horny when you come to his studio wearing skimpy clothes.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi with whom studio sex is literally canon. He will make you sleep on his lap cockwarming him as he finishes his work

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who would put up with mingyu for a whole evening just to make dinner for you if it meant he could see you all happy and jumpy and excited like that.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who loves doing the silliest and simplest things with you, like brushing your teeth or watching cartoon/anime or going on late night walk, just because it's with you.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who literally has heart eyes everytime he looks at you and he cannot stop it even if he wanted to.

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who loves giving you a head, he's so fucking pussy drunk

🍚 boyfriend!woozi who also loves your boobs, not just sexually but also emotionally, like they are his personal stress balls that he gotta get a handful of everytime he's stressed.

🍚 boyfriend!jihoon who occasionally holds you and cries, apologising prefusely for not being good enough, for not giving you enough time and attention that you deserve, for not being able to love you like he wants to, even when you keep telling him he's more than you have ever wanted and how much you love him regardless and how happy he's made you feel.

🍚 boyfriend!jihoon who really wants to understand the lengths to which he loves you, and even when he can't verbally tell you always, he would do it with his actions by doing something silly like writing a song for you and having seokmin or seungkwan sing it as he plays his guitar, unable to meet your eyes with how shy he gets but cannot let go of the smile that plasters on his face.