#had to use a pupil dilating eye drop this morning

[spooky-lestibournes]

God. Im seeing colors i didn't know existed

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[pucksandpower]

Help, My Cat Drank My Red Bull!

Max Verstappen x veterinarian!Reader

Summary: in which Sassy gets into an open can of Max’s energy drink and inadvertently leads Max to the love of his life

Max sighs as he exits the sim-rig, stretching his arms over his head. After a few intense hours of virtual racing, he could use a pick-me-up.

He wanders into the kitchen, spotting the full can of Red Bull he had left on the counter earlier.

Perfect.

But as Max reaches for the energy drink, something catches his eye — a sticky puddle on the granite countertop where the can should be. He leans in, sniffing cautiously. The unmistakable sweet scent of Red Bull wafts up.

“What the ...” His voice trails off as a blur of tan fur darts past the corner of his vision.

Sassy skids into view. Her pupils are dilated to the size of marbles and she’s practically vibrating with excess energy. Max’s jaw drops as the realization hits.

“No, no, you didn’t ...”

But the evidence is irrefutable. Sassy must have knocked over the can and lapped up every sugary drop.

Max runs a hand through his curls, panic rising. Too much caffeine could be incredibly dangerous for a cat her size. He needs to get her to a vet right away, but at — he checks his watch — 2:14 in the morning, his usual clinic will be closed.

“Come here, Sassy!” He calls, slowly advancing on the hyper feline.

But Sassy just stares at him, unblinking, before bolting in the opposite direction with a manic burst of speed. Max gives chase, cursing under his breath as she darts around furniture and ricochets off walls. After several frantic minutes of pursuit, he finally manages to corner the cat and scoop her into a carrier.

Sassy yowls in protest as Max secures the door, but he has no choice. He grabs his keys and races down to the parking garage, carefully settling the carrier into the passenger seat of his bright red Ferrari before peeling out toward the nearest emergency vet clinic.

The drive seems to take an eternity with Sassy howling the whole way. Max’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he haphazardly parks outside the clinic and jumps out, slamming the door behind him.

Only to stop dead a few steps later, the realization crashing over him like a wave. In his haste, he left the cat in the car.

“Shit!” Max spins on his heel, cheeks burning as he hurries back and grabs the carrier, cradling it awkwardly against his chest.

He strides through the front doors of the clinic, the receptionist looking up in surprise at his abrupt entrance.

“Please,” Max gasps out, eyes wide. “My cat, she drank a whole can of Red Bull. What do I do?”

The receptionist’s brows knit together briefly before her features smooth into a professional mask. “Okay sir, please have a seat in exam room three. The doctor will be right with you.”

Max nods frantically, hurrying down the hallway as directed and gently depositing the carrier on the exam table. He resumes his pacing, running anxious hands through his hair.

After what feels like an eternity, the door finally opens. But the person who walks in absolutely takes Max’s breath away.

You are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. From your cascading locks to your warm eyes, Max can’t tear his gaze away. Your figure is highlighted by pale blue scrubs as you cross the room, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. What seems to be the trouble?”

Max’s throat is suddenly, inexplicably dry. He clears it harshly. “U-uh, hi. I’m Max. Max Verstappen. My cat, Sassy, she — well, I had a can of Red Bull out and she must have knocked it over because when I came back, it was empty but the counter was sticky and then she was just … super hyper and crazy ...”

His words stumble to a halt as you lean over, gently pulling the still-feisty Sassy from her carrier and depositing her on the table. You murmur soothingly, stroking her soft fur as you examine her dilated pupils and elevated pulse.

“Hmm, yes, it does sound like she’s had a bit too much caffeine.” You shoot Max a reassuring smile that makes his heart skip a beat. “Not to worry though, we’ll get her taken care of.”

As you deftly slip a mild sedative into the crook of Sassy’s leg, Max can’t help but watch in awe at how gentle and caring you are. He’s never seen someone so compassionate and loving toward an animal before.

Within minutes, the sedative takes effect and Sassy transforms from a blur of frantic energy to a lazy puddle of fur, watching the room with heavy-lidded eyes. You scratch between her ears, lips quirked.

“There we go, that’s better. She’ll be feeling pretty groggy for the next little while as the caffeine works its way out of her system.”

Max nods dumbly, completely mesmerized as you deftly check Sassy’s vitals again.

“Her temperature and heart rate are looking good. I’d just recommend keeping her awake and hydrated until the effects have fully worn off in six to eight hours, then she should be back to normal.”

“Okay, yeah. Thank you so much, really,” Max gushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was so worried when I realized what happened.”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Better to get these things checked out, just to be safe.” A teasing glint enters your expressive eyes. “Although, I have to ask — how exactly does a Red Bull can get knocked over and lapped up by a cat?”

Max feels his cheeks flush again as your gaze meets his, warm and friendly and so incredibly beautiful up close.

He clears his throat. “Uh, well, you see I was sim racing for a while and just left it out, which was dumb of me ...”

As he rambles through the explanation, Max can’t tear his eyes away from the crinkles that form around your eyes when you smile or the melodic lilt of your laughter. By the time he’s finished, he’s even more smitten than before.

An awkward silence falls as you finish up examining Sassy. You turn back to Max, expression soft.

“Well, it seems like your girl is going to be just fine. I’ll get the discharge paperwork ready for you.”

Your footsteps retreat toward the door and panic seizes Max’s chest. He can’t just let you walk away, not without at least trying ...

“Hey, uh, Dr. Y/N?” He calls out before he can overthink it.

You pause, eyebrows raised expectantly as you turn back.

Max suddenly can’t remember what he was going to say. His mind goes blank, palms growing sweaty, as he shuffles his feet. The words completely escape him as he’s overwhelmed by your warmth and beauty.

“I, uh … thanks again. For helping Sassy,” he stammers out instead, mentally kicking himself.

You smile patiently. “Of course, I’m just glad she’s going to be okay.”

An awkward silence stretches between you as Max wars internally, desperately trying to muster the courage to ask you out properly. But the moment slips away as you begin to turn back toward the door.

“Well, I’ll get those discharge papers ready for you.”

“Right, yeah, okay. Thanks ...” Max’s words trail off lamely as you exit the room.

He squeezes his eyes shut, smacking his forehead in frustration. He just completely blew his chance with the most incredible woman he’s ever met, all because he’s a bumbling idiot who can’t even form a simple sentence around someone that effortlessly beautiful and caring.

Max blows out a long breath, trying to refocus on the fact that Sassy is going to be alright, at least. As he carefully gathers her sleepy form back into her carrier, he can’t help the pang of regret that settles in his chest.

Maybe your paths will cross again someday under better circumstances. A guy can dream, right?

***

The next week drags by for Max in a blur of monotony. He finds his thoughts drifting constantly back to the emergency vet clinic, replaying his disastrous non-attempt at asking you out on a date. Just the memory of your radiant smile and warm eyes is enough to make his heart stutter.

But as the days pass with no sign of you around Monaco, Max’s hope slowly fades. Of course someone as incredibly kind, caring, and beautiful as you would never go for an awkward guy like him. He’s an idiot for thinking he even had a chance.

Exactly one week after the Red Bull incident with Sassy, Max is moping on his couch, idly stroking Jimmy as he channel surfs. He pauses on a cheesy romcom, watching with mild disdain as the bumbling male lead performs increasingly ridiculous stunts all for a chance to see his love interest again.

It’s utterly ridiculous. And yet … Max feels a strange sense of kinship with the hapless romantic on screen.

Because as he stares at the TV, a crazy idea begins to take shape. If he wants to see you again so badly, why not take a page from the movie’s playbook? With a jolt of determination, Max scoops up a disgruntled Jimmy and tucks him into his carrier.

“Looks like you’re coming with me on an adventure, buddy,” Max murmurs, grinning slightly at Jimmy’s unmistakable look of disdain. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while. I just need you to play along so I can see Y/N again. You’re going to help me make her yours and Sassy’s new mom.”

Jimmy yawns pointedly, seemingly unimpressed with Max’s romantic scheming. Max just chuckles, scratching the cat between the ears before grabbing his keys and heading for the garage.

He settles Jimmy’s carrier into the passenger seat of his Ferrari, the engine roaring to life under his expert control. As he navigates Monaco’s winding streets, Max keeps up a steady stream of conversation with his distinctly unreceptive feline audience.

“You’re going to love Y/N, I just know it,” he insists, pulling up to a red light. “She’s the kindest, most compassionate person I’ve ever met. The way she took care of Sassy with such patience and gentleness ...” Max shakes his head in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Jimmy blinks slowly at him, conveying an impressive blend of judgment and displeasure at being awake, much less participating in this ridiculous plan. Max just barrels onward.

“Look, I know this seems crazy. But Y/N … she’s just special, you know? And if this is what it takes to get to know her better, then I’m all in.”

He pulls up to the familiar sight of the clinic, parking much more calmly this time before grabbing Jimmy’s carrier and heading inside. The same receptionist from before looks up in surprise as he approaches.

“You again? Is everything okay with Sassy?”

Panic grips Max’s chest as he realizes he didn’t actually come up with an excuse for bringing Jimmy in beforehand. He scrambles for something, anything, to say.

“Uh, well, actually it’s Jimmy here who needs to be seen,” he rushes out, nodding toward the disgruntled cat. “You see, I was just, uh … brushing him earlier and he seemed great. But then I went to pick him up and it was like … bam!” Max mimes an explosion gesture. “Total f-fur explosion, just hair going everywhere! It was like he was … moulting, but not in the normal way, you know?”

By the time Max finishes, the receptionist is staring at him in bewilderment. He can feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck as she blinks slowly.

“A … fur explosion,” she repeats flatly.

“Exactly!” Max insists with a vigorous nod. “Just an absolute furpocalypse, you would not believe it. So I figured I’d better bring him in to get checked out, just in case?”

A beat passes as the receptionist seems to silently debate arguing with him further. Finally, she just shakes her head.

“Okay, well … go ahead and take Jimmy back to exam room three again. Dr. Y/L/N will be right with you.”

Max’s heart leaps into his throat at the mention of your name as he forces a polite smile and heads back down the hallway to the familiar room. He carefully lets Jimmy out to explore as they wait, praying fervently that you’ll actually be the one to walk through that door.

The minutes drag by in tense silence, Max gnawing nervously at his thumbnail. Just as he’s starting to think this was all a terrible idea, the door swings open and you step inside.

It’s like the world stops spinning for a moment. You are … breathtaking, even more gorgeous than Max remembered. From your tumbling locks of hair to the gentle curve of your smile, he’s completely mesmerized all over again.

You glance up from the chart in your hands, doing a slight double-take as you recognize Max.

“Well, hello again you!” Your voice is bright and melodic. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you back so soon. What happened?”

Your inquisitive gaze meets Max’s and he very nearly blurts out the entire truth right then and there — that he absolutely made up an excuse just for the chance to see you again. Somehow, he bites back the words at the last moment.

“Oh, uh, it was the weirdest thing,” he stammers instead, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was brushing Jimmy, my other cat, earlier and all of a sudden his fur just started … exploding everywhere! Like, full-on furmageddon. It was insane.”

He cringes inwardly at how stupid he sounds, watching as a crease forms between your brows in contemplation. After a moment, though, your features smooth out into an easy smile and you move closer to gently stroke Jimmy’s silky fur.

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?”

For the next several minutes, Max watches in rapt fascination as you thoroughly examine Jimmy from ears to tail, gentle hands ghosting over his fur as you murmur soothing reassurances. Just being in your presence is intoxicating.

You’re so caring and patient, even with the obviously fabricated reason Max invented to see you again. It only makes his growing infatuation burn all the brighter.

Finally, you straighten back up and turn to Max with a warm smile.

“Well, I can definitively say there was no fur explosion or moulting crisis with Mr. Jimmy here,” you tease lightly, arching one perfect eyebrow. “He seems perfectly healthy to me. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Your knowing look pins Max in place, cheeks flushing guiltily. He rubs at the back of his neck again, trying to decide if he should just come clean or stubbornly dig himself deeper into this ridiculous invented scenario.

But as he opens his mouth, ready to try and bumble through another excuse, something stops him. Maybe it’s the patient understanding in your warm gaze or the gentle amusement playing at the corners of your mouth. Or maybe it’s just Dutch stubbornness rearing its head.

Either way, Max’s words grind to a halt as he takes a deep, fortifying breath.

“You know what? I’m just going to put it all out there,” he blurts before he can second guess himself further. “The truth is … I made up this whole thing as an excuse to come see you again.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but Max presses onward, suddenly unable to stem the flow of words.

“I tried to ask you out last week after you helped Sassy but I completely chickened out like an idiot. And I just … I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how caring and amazing you were.”

Max’s heart thunders in his ears as he runs an anxious hand through his hair.

“So, I don’t know, I got this stupid idea to bring Jimmy in so I could see you again. Which is insane, I know, and you probably think I’m some total weirdo stalker creep now but-”

“Max.” Your soft voice cuts through his panicked rambling like a lighthouse beam in the fog. “Breathe.”

He sucks in a shuddery breath, feeling his cheeks flush scarlet under your gaze. This is it, the moment you shut him down for being a complete crazy person and he has to slink out of here in shame. Maybe he can move to Timbuktu and become a goat herder to escape his humiliation-

“I have to admit, this is a new one for me,” you continue, a teasing lilt to your words. “Most guys don’t go to such elaborate lengths just to see me again.”

You take a step closer, eyes sparking with a hint of mischief that has Max’s breath catching in his throat.

“Though I have to say, faking a pet illness is definitely an … original move. Do you go to such dramatic extremes for all your romantic pursuits?”

Max can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the tightly-wound tension easing from his shoulders.

“No, I uh … you’re pretty definitively the first person I’ve literally made my cat an accomplice just to spend more time with.”

The laughter that bubbles up from you at that is bright and infectious, warmth blooming in Max’s chest as he drinks in the delighted crinkles at the corners of your eyes.

“Well, as harebrained schemes go, I suppose I’ve encountered worse,” you tease warmly. “Though in the future, you’re welcome to just ask me out like a normal person.”

A weighted pause hangs between you as realization dawns in Max’s thundering heart. Is this … is this your way of giving him that very opening?

He clears his throat roughly, feeling oddly like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, every molecule vibrating with anticipation and hope and sheer, pounding need.

“Does that mean … I mean, would you want to?” The words stick in his suddenly dry throat. “Go out with me, that is? On like … a date?”

The breath rushes from Max’s lungs in a dizzying whoosh as he finally gets the words out. He watches you intently, hands clenched into nervous fists as he waits for your response with bated breath.

For a moment, you’re quiet, considering him with an inscrutable expression. The silence seems to stretch into eternity, suffocating Max as a thousand worst-case scenarios start to race through his mind.

This is it, he’s blown it forever. You’re going to turn him down, probably with a gentle let-down about having to be professional or not dating clients or something. He’ll be crushed, forced to slink away and change his name and flee to the farthest reaches of Nepal to become a hermit and-

And then, finally, you smile. It’s soft and warm and sends relief crashing through Max in a blissful wave.

“You know what, Max? I would really like that.”

He blinks, feeling a little dizzy as the words bounce around his head. “You … you would?”

You laugh again, low and melodic, taking another step toward him. “I would. In fact, I’d love nothing more.”

A giddy grin splits Max’s face before he can rein it in. You actually said yes! To him! After his utterly insane made-up pet emergency, you still somehow agreed to go out with him.

The absurd wave of giddy elation and disbelief must show on his face, because you shake your head fondly.

“What am I going to do with you, Max Verstappen?” You say, voice warm with wry amusement. “Anyone else might have turned and ran after that nonsense, but I have to admit … there’s something terribly endearing about your attempts at romance.”

You brush past him then, headed for the door with a coquettish glance over your shoulder.

“I’ll get those discharge papers ready. And maybe once the completely fabricated fur crisis is dealt with, you can take me out for that date one of these days?”

Max can only nod dumbly, wide smile still firmly in place as the exam room door swings shut behind you. He glances down at a disgruntled Jimmy, scratching his cat’s ears with a breathy chuckle.

“Looks like your little acting gig paid off after all, buddy. Your new mom’s gonna take me out on a date!”

***

A few months later, Max can barely contain his excitement as he weaves through the familiar organized chaos of the Monaco paddock. This race holds a special thrill every year as one of the marquee events on the calendar. But today, there’s an extra level of anticipation thrumming through his veins.

Because for the first time ever, you’re here with him.

After months of gentle coaxing and meticulously planned days off, he’s finally convinced you to spend an entire race weekend as his guest. The chance to show you his world, the intoxicating intensity of a Grand Prix up close, fills Max with a buzz of elation.

He can’t wait for you to experience it all — the roar of finely-tuned engines, the crunch of data analysis, and even the mundane periods of hurry-up-and-wait that are all just part of the hectic lifestyle he loves. Just having you by his side makes everything seem that much more vibrant and alive.

Max throws you a brilliant grin as he catches your eye, unable to resist drinking in how gorgeous you look, face glowing with curiosity and excitement at taking it all in. His breath catches a little at the warmth in your returned smile. Even after months together, he’s still constantly amazed that this funny, caring, wonderful woman actually agreed to be his.

A gentle hand on his arm breaks through Max’s reverie. He glances over to find his trainer indicating they should move on for the next pre-race commitment. Max nods easily, squeezing your hand as he slows.

“Why don’t you wait here? I’ll just be a couple minutes with Rupert going over some details, then we can grab some food, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect.” You lean in to press a lingering kiss to his cheek that makes his head swim. “I’ll be here.”

Max’s grin is so wide it borders on goofy as he tears himself away to follow Rupert toward the motorhome, throwing one last look over his shoulder. You’ve settled onto a stack of tires just around the corner, radiant smile still in place as you watch the surrounding action unfold.

His trainer’s voice pulls Max back to the present as they walk, and he does his best to shelf his heartsick infatuation for a few minutes to focus. This is it, the most famous race of the year. The track with no room for error during qualifying. He should be mentally locking in, triple checking every detail and sensor read-out.

Instead, his mind keeps drifting back to how soft your lips felt against his cheek, how undeniably right it feels to share this with you.

By the time their brief walk-through wraps up, Max is practically shaking with anticipation to rejoin you. Only as he turns back toward where he left you, jacket slung over his arm … you’re nowhere to be seen.

A crease forms between Max’s brows as he scans the scattered tires and tool chests, looking for your familiar figure. You couldn’t have gone far in such a short span.

Then a flash of movement from the Mercedes garage entrance catches his eye and Max feels his heart plummet. There you are, crouched down animatedly in front of the German team’s pit … with none other than Lewis Hamilton and his bloody bulldog Roscoe.

Of course. Of course Lewis-freaking-Hamilton would zoom in the second Max’s back was turned to try and work his charms on you. Even bringing that dumb dog out like the world’s most obnoxious prop to appeal to your soft heart for animals.

Max sees red, an irrational wave of protective jealousy surging through his veins as he watches you laugh at something Lewis says, completely charmed. Your hand strokes Roscoe’s broad head idly, pure affection written across your features.

And just like that, Max is moving before his brain can catch up, feet carrying him hastily across the pavement as if drawn by an invisible cord.

You glance up as he approaches, smile stretching even wider. “Max! Lewis was just-”

But Max pays your words no mind, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you snugly against his side as he sizes up Lewis with narrowed eyes.

“Everything okay over here?” His gaze pointedly avoids the dog panting at their feet.

He sees confusion flicker across your features, but Lewis just chuckles good-naturedly.

“Just making a new friend is all! Your girl here is an absolute natural with Roscoe.” He shoots you a warm grin and motions to his dog, who thumps his stubby tail happily against the pavement.

Max feels his jaw tighten, irrational possessiveness flaring hot and bright as Lewis’ approving gaze lingers a little too long for his liking.

“Oh, the pup’s adorable!” You enthuse, dropping into a crouch again to ruffle Roscoe’s velvety ears. “You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Max scowls down at the dog, annoyed by his besotted panting and frantically wagging tail as you dole out affectionate pats. Like the mangy thing has any inkling how lucky he is.

Leave it to Lewis to trot out something irresistibly cute like that just to try and win you over.

Seeming to sense his silent brooding, you straighten back up and loop your arm through Max’s, squeezing his bicep gently. “I’m getting a little thirsty, actually. Do you mind if I run to the hospitality tent for a drink quickly?”

Lewis perks up instantly. “I can show you whe-”

“She knows the way,” Max cuts him off, perhaps a bit too sharply judging by your surprised blink. He softens his tone with an effort. “To Red Bull hospitality, I mean. I’ll walk you over.”

He turns on his heel, tugging you along in the wake of his hasty dismissal. Your brows knit together and you open your mouth, no doubt to question his odd behavior.

But Max stubbornly presses on, only slowing once you’ve turned past a row of transport trucks and the Mercedes garage is out of sight. He releases a long, slow breath, some of the weird, clawing tension ebbing away now that you’re back by his side.

“Everything alright?” You ask carefully, mouth curved into a bemused half-smile. “That was … a bit of an abrupt exit back there.”

Max snorts, shaking his head ruefully as you fall into step together. How is he supposed to put this in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a completely irrational, jealous idiot?

“Yeah, everything’s great. Just felt like it was time to move on before Lewis could really get going, you know?” He shoots you a sidelong look, arching one brow meaningfully. “Dude loves to hear himself talk.”

You huff out an amused breath, lips twitching like you’re struggling not to grin wider. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. He seems perfectly lovely from what I could tell.”

Max shrugs one shoulder, brushing off the statement and its implicit critique of his attitude. Lewis is a fine enough guy … he just also happens to be a chronic flirt who clearly recognizes a beautiful, charming woman when he sees one. And that activates Max’s protective instincts on a level he didn’t quite anticipate until he saw Lewis zeroing in on you like that.

You drift closer as you walk, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully.

“You know, it was kind of sweet, actually — him bringing Roscoe out to meet me. I think he knew I’m a sucker for a cute dog.”

Sweet. Right. Because Lewis was just doing it all out of the goodness of his bleeding heart.

“Don’t you mean Roscoe is the real competition here?” Max tries for a teasing tone, only half-joking. “Pretty sure that mutt was the one working overtime to charm you.”

He tosses you an exaggerated leer, stoking the banter to cover his lingering irrational annoyance at the entire situation. If you noticed his blatant brush-off of Lewis, you’re being mercifully subtle about calling it out.

Sure enough, you lift one delicately arched brow, lips curved into an indulgent smile. “Is that so? And here I thought it was just Lewis trying to get on my good side. My, what a dilemma!”

Max chuckles despite himself at your playful tone, some of the weird tension ebbing further from his shoulders. Of course you’re not fazed by all this nonsense — you never are. Not only are you unfailingly kind and patient, but you clearly know him well enough by now to recognize when his protective instincts are causing the occasional bout of unreasonable jealousy.

Even though he swears up and down he isn’t actually jealous, not really. Just … being cautious after finally finding someone as incredible as you.

Red Bull hospitality comes into view up ahead, its distinctive energy drink logos splashed across the entrance. You start to slow as you approach, hand trailing lightly down Max’s arm until your fingers brush his.

“I wasn’t gone that long, you know,” you point out, regarding him with those warm, knowing eyes. “I wouldn’t just run off and leave you behind on your big weekend.”

Something in your tone, soft yet insistent, assures Max that you see right through his childishly competitive display. He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish as you continue.

“Max, you don’t have to worry about anyone trying to steal me away or whatever it is that’s going through that handsome head of yours. I’m yours, remember?”

Your fingers tangle through his and your free hand comes up to cup his cheek, grounding him fully in the moment. He nods slowly, leaning into your touch as the last wisps of stupid, needless jealousy evaporate under the warmth of your fond gaze.

“You’re right, I know. I do remember.” He turns his head slightly, brushing his lips across your palm. “And I’m yours.”

“Exactly.” You raise up on your tiptoes to dust a feather-light kiss across his mouth that leaves Max’s head spinning delightfully. “Now, what do you say we get something to drink so we can enjoy the rest of the weekend together?”

Max grins, feeling lighter than he has all day as he catches your hand and tugs you toward the tent entrance.

“Lead the way, liefje. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

And he absolutely would, too — past Lewis and Roscoe and any irrational jealousy that rears its head. Because having you by his side through all the whirlwind of Formula 1, getting to share this wild life with the woman he loves more and more every day?

It’s the only competition Max has any interest in winning.

[circe69]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥! - 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

❤︎ simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader ❤︎ wc: 2.4k ❤︎tw: mentions of gore, suggestive ❤︎ tags - snowy valentines, heavy making out, pining, drunk confessions, aggressive!simon, but sweet as well :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"You know today's Valentine's Day, right L.T?" Your words slurred together like pudding, and Ghost could smell the faint scent of whiskey, along with the remnants of some strawberry dessert, on your breath as he leaned down to hear you better.

He'd brought you up to the rooftop from the raging party downstairs, figuring it be easier to avoid any questions from Soap or Price about just why the two of you were standing so close. He looked up, stretching and rolling his neck from side to side, and was taken back by just how clear the sky was. It'd been months since he'd been able to make out any sort of constellation, and just about everyone had gotten used to the gunpowder-filled clouds and polluted air, but Ghost hadn't.

"What about it?" He said firmly, looking down at you and watching how you ever so slightly fisted the hem of his t-shirt in your hands, and every so often, your knuckles would graze the skin of his stomach, making his whole-body tense.

You smiled, your doe eyes and dilated pupils staring up at him with the most drunken affection that he'd seen in a while, "Do you have anyone?" You bit down on your chapstick-doused lips, enjoying the slight cherry flavor. Ghost watched you work; he could almost feel your tongue moving around on his just by watching your lick your lips.

He sighed, not annoyed, but a little anxious. He just didn't know how to act around you, he didn't know why you made him feel so different from everyone else. It'd been years since he had a friend, let alone a woman, an attractive one no doubt, clawing at him for more, practically begging for him to just pick her up and take her to a random closet to show her just how much he was willing to give. At this point, Ghost couldn't care less about the fact that you'd forget most of this in the morning. He loved the way you made him feel, even if there was a chance you didn't mean it.

"You're drunk, soldier." He gently pried your wandering hands off his body as you grimaced at the fact that he just called you soldier. You whined in response, hands instinctively shooting up to hug him around his neck, and Ghost allowed it, because he wanted it so badly. He wanted you so badly.

"Come on, just tell me already! You're no fun when you keep secrets." You were practically hanging off of him, your toes barely touching the ground, and even though he could've wrapped himself around you and lifted you up even higher, his hands stayed in fists planted at his sides. You leaned even closer to whisper,

"Do you have a valentine or not?"

A small smile stretched across Ghost's face, and for once, he was actually thankful for that thin piece of fabric covering it. Precious, he thought. You were the one thing that could unlock Simon's buried affection, and whether you knew it or not, you were the ticket to making his entire being feel better. He was bloodthirsty on the field, a man-killing machine known for his deceitful tactics and disgusting tricks for cracking a neck just right, but it disappeared in your presence. Not because he had to hide it, but because he would just much rather focus on you, the most perfect thing, right in front of him.

Ghost's hands hesitantly moved to the small of your back, but then slowly dropped them again before raising one to pinch the bridge of his nose as you let go of his neck, crossing your arms in annoyance at the fact that he just won't grab you.

"I know you're pouting because I'm not paying much attention to you, but I have to be gentle with you for now. You've had drinks, yeah? Maybe a few too many. Even if I wanted to, I can't touch you."

You looked up at him, the grimace resting on your face was a little more relaxed, "But" you started, "Do you want to?"

Ghost looked back at you, and his lungs felt like they'd burst into flames if you spoke one more sentence in that voice, the voice that's dripping with desire and demand, for him and only him. He whispered, "Of course I do. Of course, I want to touch you, I want to touch every part of you." His voice grew louder at the end of his words, making your eyes widen at the volume.

"Just because I'm being gentle right now, doesn't mean I always will. The things I want to have happen, the things I want to do to you, aren't sweet things. They aren't nice, they wouldn't be beautiful or sentimental. I wouldn't be careful. Do you understand?"

You craned your neck up at him, in a certain way that made your cheek bones shine perfectly from the dim light of the moon.

"I understand, Lieutenant," your voice was nothing more than a quiet sigh.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow's role call is an hour earlier," Ghost said as he started to walk back to the door to the stairs, "Be there."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You groaned in pain as an alarm rang through your room, off the walls and into your ears. Every part of you hurt, from your toes to your shoulders. I couldn't have done that much, right? You thought, slowly slipping out of your covers and top quilt before walking to the bathroom.

6 AM, and for what? Breakfast and a flag? Couldn't they wait an hour? I sure could. Your hair wasn't as dirty as you'd thought it be, thankfully, and it was easy to manage into a tight bun before tugging on boots and a warm winter coat and heading to the main hall. As you walked, crunching on a small layer of snow with every step, you tried to think back to last night. What even happened? You were kicking yourself, because you knew this would be the case. It happens every time. You're just more of a lightweight than you'd like to admit, and you remember it every morning after you drink.

You could remember the rooftop, being escorted up there by none other than Ghost, which wasn't out of the ordinary, but there were some parts of your conversation that just didn't make sense. It was all a blur but, there was something about being gentle? And Ghost mentioning that, sure he's being gentle now, but if you let him, he'd be the farthest thing from gentle with you.

But there was no way that happened. Fever dreams, drunk dreams, they're all the same. They're all vivid, and scarily accurate, but fake, nonetheless.

Once you arrived at the hall, a wooden door creaked open upon your entrance, along with the sound of your boots hitting the floor in attempt to shake the ice off. The room was packed to the brim with people, rescue dogs that didn't behave, and squeaking chairs moving round for roll call. Hot coffee was being poured and whistling kettles being turned off for tea were some of your favorite smells in the world. The dim fluorescent lighting woke you up fully, and if it were any brighter, it may have set you over the edge. No matter how hungover you were, snowy mornings were like a restart.

You made your way down the precise middle aisle, eyeing an open chair by Ghost and speedwalking to grab it before anyone else.

Once you sat down, you started shedding your large coat and draped it behind you. Ghost finally noticed and took a double take once he saw just who was sitting next to him.

Somehow, by some crazy unearthly miracle, even after a terrible hangover, you were still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He was almost frustrated at this point; you looked like you'd never drank a day in your life. Your hair was perfectly pinned, clothes beautifully ironed, which allowed for every curve to be hugged like a glove and shown off to every man in the room.

Ghost was borderline salivating. You smelled like you always did, lavender; and your morning voice as you said hello to him was just raspy enough to make him crazy, almost like crackling firewood. Even in the snowy, freezing weather, just by you being there, he felt perfectly warm.

"Morning," he said back, adjusting his pants that had somehow shrunk a few inches since you took your place by him.

The cup of coffee in his hand looked minuscule compared to the one in yours, which let your mind wander to other places, thinking about things that you shouldn't be. Like how small your body would feel enclosed in arms, and how those very same hands that were inches away from yours could destroy you within seconds.

Before you knew it, one of Ghost's arms raised and placed itself on the back of your chair, making you dizzy just at the contact. His skin wasn't even on yours, but you could feel the weight of his heavy forearm on the chair, and the way it gently ruffled the sleeves on your shirt. His breath was closer, practically pouring down the side of your neck, which made you automatically lean in closer to him. You could feel your heartbeat and was sure he could see it popping out of your chest every second.

"Hey," he whispered in your ear, making your eyes flutter at the deep tone speaking from a mouth inches away from you.

"If I left, would you follow me out?"

You looked at him, eyes wandering all over his face until resting in deep eye contact. You could tell all he needed was one word, one nod, and he'd stand up.

"Yes," you whispered. Breathed, more like.

Ghost stood, his height growing like a giant tree, from his seat and stomped out of the large dining room, and into a small hallway towards the back. You discreetly watched every move, every step he took, every nod he gave to the unsuspecting soldiers, and the exact turn he took to start his descent in the hallway.

You sat for a minute before moving. I could just stay, avoid any unnecessary confrontation, and tell him he misheard me, you thought. Your legs fidgeted for a few more seconds, trying to decide, but in reality, your answer from the start was genuine.

You shot up, faster than you intended, and started walking in the same path that Ghost did. Nodding to the soldiers, shooting smiles and quietly opening a door that led you into the same dark hallway that he entered.

There were a few small windows lining the hall, and the snow falling made it seem brighter than it was. You walked a few paces slowly down the walkway, looking in empty rooms and peeping your head in open doors, wondering where he could've gone.

All the sudden, when you were looking towards the opposite direction, a strong pair of gloved hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled your body into a room before slamming the door with his foot and pinning you to the back of it.

Ghost's face was inches away from yours, "Mm, finally," he groaned, his hands desperately running over and under pieces of your clothing. He tugged at hemlines, the belt loops of your pants, anything he could grab to signal he wanted more, and he hadn't even started yet.

"Finally?" You teased, trying not to whimper at the feeling of his hands squeezing the meat of your thigh, "You act like you've been waiting for this or something." Your words got breathier with every second, and so did his. All he did was hum in agreement, words weren't ever truly necessary for him, especially when he'd rather communicate in touch.

He quickly lifted up his mask just enough so his lips were available to you, and you took the opportunity to utilize them as fast as you could. Once you saw them, plump and slightly wet lips, your eyes drowned in the sight of them. Your arms shot up to his neck, and you pulled him down to your level so you could kiss him properly.

It wasn't sweet like a first kiss, or something that you'd want to take a picture of and frame it, it was like a secret. His mouth opening against yours, the air between you mixing like it was never meant to separate, the two of you were hungry, hungry for each other and only each other. The pads of his fingers rubbed your collarbone, making you shiver underneath his calloused touch, and he loved it. His tongue gently massaged yours, sliding his lips back and forth and your teeth gently bit down on his lip slowly before the two of you broke the kiss and slowly opened your eyes again.

Ghost moaned against his closed mouth, shutting his eyes before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His long arms wrapped around you as if you were a present from Christmas, something that he'd always wanted but never believed he'd get. He almost needed a breather from the aftermath of it all. He couldn't stop, and he knew he'd never stop for as long as you were in arms reach.

"Do you remember last night?" He said from his spot in your neck, to which you started to nod. "Too much to not be slightly embarrassed forever."

You could feel his chest vibrate against yours from the huff of air he let out, and after he lifted his head to meet yours again, straightening his posture to tower over you, "Ask it again." He demanded as his hand planted itself behind your head on the door.

The smile on your lips was enough to make his knees buckle, all it did was remind him that every part about you was made beautifully, was made to its most perfect potential.

You sighed before rolling your eyes slightly and dropping your head in your hands for a minute out of embarrassment, "Do you have a valentine, Lieutenant?"

Ghost allowed himself to just bask in the silence, to soak in what you just said like a warm bath. How wonderful, that he was able to hear you say that same question twice?

"Yes, I do," he started, before taking your hand in his and carefully kissing the center of your palms, "And I think I'm set for life."

[blondedmuse]

DRUNK IN LOVE

phil wenneck x famous!reader

synopsis. ꩜ taking phil to celebrate you best friend’s birthday in monte carlo. and the morning after.

author's note. ∿ broke my hiatus just to write about this man. fluff

word count. ⨾ 1.6k

“You’re staring,” You tell Phil while he watches—stares at you as you get ready, putting on your earrings and the final touches of your look for the night.

“I can’t help it, baby,” He grins, walking up to you, his hands landing on your dress-adorned waist while his head perches on your shoulder as he looks into the reflection of the en suite bathroom mirror.

“You of all people should know what you do to me,” He whispered and you could feel his grin by the way his teeth grazed your ear. And you knew it wasn’t going away any time soon.

“How crazy I am about you.” It was the truth. The whole truth and nothing but. He was a lucky guy and he was reminded everyday. Especially now he thought, unable to keep his eyes off the way the dress hugged your curves in all the right places. However, that’s not to say you weren’t a lucky girl.

It was hard to find someone genuinely interested in you; not interested in your status or solely for the fact of being seen with you. Phil didn’t care in the slightest. You thought maybe he’d change, that maybe he’d end up using you, that maybe his interests would turn elsewhere, that maybe he was just like the others. But they stayed the same, he stayed the same. The same english teacher you spilled your coffee on in a cafe in California, and the same english teacher who had no clue who you were then.

Truth be told, he didn’t like the limelight. It wasn’t made for him the way it was made for you, he would say. And so you kept him out of that part of your life as much as you could and he thanked you for it.

Albeit, It was harder than it proved to be because the paparazzi always seemed to get their way and there wasn’t really any way around it. You could stop some photos from circulating, but not them altogether. So, when you asked Phil to come to Monte Carlo with you to celebrate your best friends birthday and watch the Monaco Grand Prix, it was safe to say you were a bit hesitant.

“F’course, I’ll go.” But he wasn’t. He would do anything if you wanted, and he made it clear that all you had to do was ask. And who was he to turn down the opportunity to watch F1? You and he were content with the private life you had—as private as it could be. But there were some times where you wanted to show off. Especially when he looked the way he did.

“I could say the same about you,” You whisper back, turning to face him in his hold. “You’ve always looked good in all black. But to be honest you look good in anything—preferably nothing.”

He exhaled, trying to grasp onto to the self control he felt slipping through his fingers.

“What time does the party start?” He asks looking down at you and you swore you saw his pupils dilate with need.

“Eight.” You answer and he smiles. “But the driver’s here already,” you continue and his head drops.

“We have fifteen minutes-”

“For the drive,” you tell him, leaving him in the bathroom to grab your clutch. “We always have the way back.”

He scoffs light-heartedly, following after you. “Yeah, if you’re not gonna be fucking hammered, baby.”

“No promises,” you laugh, taking his hand, dragging him downstairs to the car that was awaiting your arrival.

The drive was quick and smooth and when you arrived the venue was bustling with people, but to your luck, void of any flashing cameras. Taking notes of this, Phil took his time as he got out from his side of the car, circling around to yours and opening the door for you. He offered his hand out for you to grab, which you gladly accepted, exiting the vehicle.

Your arms wrapped around his right as you walked into the club and past the line of people out front, where you were immediately spotted by your best friend, Mia.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” She exclaimed, hugging you.

“As if I’d miss it.”

You both laughed and she turned to Phil, greeting him. “Nice to see you again, Phil,” she smiled, giving him a brief hug as well.

He sighed playfully. “I wish I could say the same thing about you.”

She laughed. “Dream big, they say.” You talked for a few minutes before she took you farther back into the club.

You wish you could say you’d remember the night by the time you woke up in the morning, but with how you’d spent it you weren’t so sure. With the way you drinking it was like you had your sights set on blacking out. You were having the time of your life, evidently so, and alcohol was just conveniently within arms reach at all times. Eventually (and surprisingly), Phil was the one to cut you off to save you tomorrow’s embarrassment, but that didn’t stop you from dragging him to the dance floor. He had his fair share of drinks, so the option of denying you was already out the window.

You danced until your feet hurt and you danced some more. You knew you had to go back to the hotel when the pain was too much and you had no champagne to keep it down. But by then it was early morning and the party was on its last legs, people leaving as they pleased.

As you were saying your incoherent goodbyes to Mia, Phil sobered up the best he could, eyeing the paparazzi that appeared the entrance.

“You ready?” He asked, walking up to you, marveling at how you were still standing. You replied only with a nod, leaning into his frame as he accepted yours with open arms.

“There’s paparazzi out front, do you wanna go out the back?” You weighed your options—the best your melted mind could—before shaking your head.

“No, I told the driver to be out front, so either way we’d have to go out there anyway,” you answered, trying your best not to slur your words, but your attempt remained unsuccessful.

“Great. Okay, let’s go.” He waved goodbye to Mia, while planting his hand firmly around your waist, walking you out the club. The moment the doors opened, the two of you were met by blinding lights. Phil’s arm immediately went to block your eyes the best they could while guiding you through the sea of people.

“Fuck, it’s so bright,” you slurred, but only loud enough so that Phil could hear.

“I know, baby. Stay with me, we gotta get to the car, okay,” He told you before he checking his pockets for the sunglasses he kept for times like this. Once he found them they were yours, blocking out the lights obstructing your view ahead of you. The camera’s couldn’t catch it but your expression shifted to one of confusion.

“Wait who are you again?”

“Your boyfriend, honey.”

You laughed. “That’s funny, I already have one.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he mumbled to himself as he opened the car door for you, grateful it wasn’t to far. He got in after you, the car taking off right as soon as he was settled.

“So…do you have a girlfriend?”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah but she doesn’t know how to drink.”

“That’s a shame,” you giggled, followed by a hiccup.

“Here, have some water,” Phil told you, handing you a bottle he grabbed from the side of the car door. You obliged blissfully as he reached for your feet, undoing your heels in his lap and you squealed as you felt his touch. It was so soft but so distinctly his.

“Where is she tonight, your girlfriend?” You lifted his sunglasses from your face, letting them sit in you hair as you talked.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

You took one more sip of your water before capping it and putting it on the floor.

“I could if I knew. I could also tell you that I could show you a good time,” You moved your feet in his lap, dangerously close to the place you wanted then the most.

He shook his head with that same grin he wore all night. “You are so wasted right now, baby.”

The rest of the night was hazy and the morning arrived with a pounding in your skull. You woke up before Phil for the sole reason of sticking your head in the toilet to empty the contents of your stomach. Phil woke up quickly after, your empty spot on the bed subconsciously telling him you weren't there. He looked for where you could've been which didn't take too long once he heard you from the bathroom.

"I see last night caught up to you," He spoke softly as he sat down next to you on the floor, his voice low and raspy. He held your hair back as you retched, wincing a little.

"Good girl. Let it out, baby," he lulled as his free hand rubbed your back. He stayed like that, comforting you when heaved just a little too hard and he would continue to do so whether you wanted it or not. When he didn't hear you anymore he got up from the floor to go to the sink, filling up one of the many complimentary cups the hotel offered with water. He sat back down again and handed it to you.

"You okay?" He asks and you nod, drinking the water. Once you're done the two of you sit like that for a few moments, soaking in each other. Your head rests in the nape of his neck, your body in his lap, and his head on yours. The early morning is calm in Monte Carlo and so are you.

"We should get breakfast, yeah?"

"Yeah." You agree.

"Get you some coffee for that hangover," He suggested, mumbling into your hair. While sobriety had kicked in and the effects of alcohol were long gone, there was a part of you that always felt the way you were when you were drunk. He felt it too. Or maybe you were just in love.

[babygirldabi]

can I get Dabi and hawks threesome headcanons or a fic 🌚 Srry I’m horny

LMAOOOOOOO aren't we all

Anyways hope you like daddy kinks and stuff

CW: Daddy kink, threesome, multiple creampies, degradation, praise, female reader, use of alcohol, let me know if I've missed anything x

There is nothing in this world that Dabi wouldn’t do for you. Nothing. 

So when he asks you what you want for your birthday, you do not hesitate to tell him the truth. 

The silence is heavy, and at first you think he’s pissed, so you can’t look him in the eye. Why did I say that Why did I say that Why did I say that

“For real?” He asks, in a voice so soft you’re forced to look up. His pupils are dilated. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your mouth, he’s practically panting. 

“Is that weird?”

“No,” he answers, almost too quickly, then seems to collect himself. “No,” he says more slowly. You nod. 

“I know we���ve talked about it…”

And you have. Hypothetically. A while back. 

He nods. “This is what you really want?” The low gravel of his voice, deeper, somehow, when he’s aroused, makes you shiver. 

You nod, decisively. “This is what I want.”

And so, when he makes the call, he’s prepared to ask nicely. 

“I’m thinking about having whiskey tonight.” Hawks always answers Dabi’s calls as though they’re mid-conversation.

Dabi takes a drag of his cigarette before answering, leaning against the brickwork of your apartment building, lazily surveying the street. “Yeah? What kind?”

“That’s why I’m glad you called.” On the other end of the line, Hawks considers the store shelf in front of him. “Macallan or WhistlePig?”

Dabi snorts. “I drink Jack Daniels, man. Fuck if I know.”

“WhistlePig it is.” Hawks seizes the bottle from the shelf and begins to stroll to the register. “Nice talking to you, man. See you around.”

“Hey- where the fuck are you goin’?” Dabi’s muted voice demands as Hawks pulls the phone from his ear. “Get the fuck back here.”

Hawks obliges. “What’s up?”

“I called you.”

“Ah, yeah. Okay. Why?”

Dabi rubs one temple with his free hand, eyes closed. “You’re a fuckin idiot.”

“I was on patrol late last night,” Hawks complains. “Spit it out.”

So Dabi does. 

Hawks stops dead in his tracks, nearly dropping his bottle on the tile floor. “Excuse me?”

“For her birthday. That’s what she wants.”

Silence. 

“Pick your jaw up offa the floor, bird brain.”

Hawks closes his mouth sheepishly. “Now how the fuck did you know-”

“Because I know you. So what do you think.”

“You-she- I-she…WHAT?”

“I’m not the one making the request. I’m the messenger.” Dabi smirks. “And participant.”

“Is this a joke?”

“How I wish it were,” Dabi sighs wistfully, enjoying this shocked, stuttering version of the winged Hero so much he can’t help but prolong it. “But this is what she wants.”

In reality, for all the shit he gives Hawks, Dabi trusts him implicitly. Not that he’d ever admit that. Which is why such a request had to go directly to Hawks. Dabi doesn’t necessarily like to share, but if he must, Hawks is his go-to. 

Hawks pretends to hesitate long after he’s mentally agreed. “Shit, yeah, okay. As long as you don’t get jealous and burn my wings off or anything.”

Dabi laughs wryly. “I’m not makin’ any promises.”

One week later, your birthday has come and very nearly gone, it being 9 pm on the holy day itself. You’ve been brunched, presented with gifts, had cake (ice cream, your favorite), and drank more wine than Dabi secretly thinks is safe for you, but who is he to regulate the birthday girl. Now, everyone has gone home, the apartment has been tidied, and you are in the shower, washing the festivity out of your hair. It’s been a good day. So good, in fact, that you’ve mostly forgotten the request you made to Dabi a few weeks ago. This morning he had presented you with a beautiful necklace, silver with a blue crystal (Lapis Lazuli, if you remember correctly) carved into a flame. It twinkles at the base of your throat now, in the low light. You hum absentmindedly as you rinse conditioner from your hair, exhausted and perfectly content. 

 A low knock sounds at the bathroom door. “Come in,” you sing, shutting off the water and wringing your hair out. Dabi steps in. 

“So. Good day?”

“Good day,” you confirm, stepping out of the shower and allowing him to wrap you in a towel. “Great day. Thank you for making it so great.”

He smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Got one more gift for ya.”

Your head jerks up in surprise. “You do?” 

He nods, smug as ever. “C’mon.” Taking your hand, he leads you out of the bathroom, through your bedroom, and into the living room. 

“Keigo?” 

“Hey, darlin’.” The winged Hero is seated on the couch, but stands and swaggers over to you as Dabi leads you into the room. “Happy birthday.” 

“Thanks, but what are you doing he-” 

And then it hits you. 

“Oh.” You turn to stare at Dabi, who’s watching you carefully, making sure you’re okay with this. “OH.”

Dabi shrugs. “Far be it from me to deny the birthday girl.”

A smile spreads across your face, slowly, then all at once. “Really?”

“Really.” 

“Really,” Hawks echoes, reaching for your hand. “Why don’t we sit down, talk about the rules.”

You let Hawks lead you to the couch and sit down beside him, Dabi not far behind. 

“Alright.” For just a second, Hawks assumes his Serious Hero Face. “Let’s talk limits and boundaries.”

“Uh…” it’s hard to collect your thoughts. Flustered, you press your hands to your burning cheeks and try to focus. “Uhm….no wax play, no piss, no fisting.” You peek at Dabi to make sure you’re not missing anything, and he nods in silent confirmation. You can’t believe this is happening. “ Degradation is okay, and-" Your face is bright red by now, you can feel it. "I kinda....have a Daddy kink?" Hawks nods seriously. “Praise?”

“Praise is good,” you nearly squeak. Dabi hides a smile. 

“Safe word?” 

Oh, god. You have to say it out loud. 

“Bonfire,” you whisper, mortified. Hawks raises his eyes to Dabi in disbelief. Dabi nods infinitesimally. 

“That’s….That’s good. Okay. Yeah. That’s good.” Hawks is trying like hell to hold in his laughter. You can’t raise your eyes from the floor. 

Dabi rises. “I’m gonna go get some wine. Help us relax.” He disappears into the kitchen, leaving you and Hawks to your own devices. 

Hawks smiles at you. “Are you good? Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“I’m good,” you half whisper. “I’m, uh…I get a little…shy…”

“That’s okay. We’ll take good care of you.” The Winged Hero stands and stretches, flaunting his toned stomach under his black tank top, riding high above his joggers. “What helps you relax?”

“Crack the windows,” Dabi calls from the kitchen, over the sounds of glasses clinking as they’re set on the counter. “She likes the sound of the rain. And light some of those candles.”

 As you watch, Hawks flits easily around the room, lighting some of the candles you’ve scattered around the space, with scents like Banana Nut Bread and Bourbon Barrel Cake. As the warm, sweet smells begin to drift around the room, he cracks a couple windows on the far wall, and sure enough, the sounds of the rainstorm fill the room. You feel yourself begin to relax, leaning deeper into the plush folds of the couch. 

“Yeah, I can see it on your face.” Hawks smiles gently at you as he rejoins you on the couch. “Starting to feel better?”

“Yeah. I’ve never… uh, done this.”

“Really? Never?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know many…people. And none of my exes ever would've...Well, they weren't as trusting in me as Dabi is."

“Well, I’m honored to be the first.” Hawks puts an arm around you. “C’mon.” Obediently, you lean back against him, just as Dabi breezes back into the room, balancing three wine glasses and a bottle. 

“Told ya.” He addresses Hawks. “I know what helps.” Handing out the glasses, he sinks down on your other side, sliding a hand down your thigh. “Drink up, birthday girl.”

And so, you do. 

As you drink- careful to not drink enough to get really drunk, just enough to feel it and relax- you just talk. Except words are accompanied by soft touches; a squeeze of the thigh, a light brushing of fingers against your bare shoulder. It occurs to you that you’re still just wrapped in your towel, and though you’re nearly embarrassed you also acknowledge that really, it’ll just save time. 

In minutes, you’ve melted like butter between the two men. The towel is looser now; most of your thighs are exposed, your wet hair has been twisted into a bun to allow more access to your neck, which Hawks is currently buried in. You sigh, contentedly, as Dabi loosens the towel and gently pulls it away, kneeling on the carpeted floor to kiss his way up your thighs. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” he rasps, pushing your thighs apart. “You wanna keep goin’?”

You nod, and Hawks cups your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips. 

“Answer him out loud, sweetheart. We need to hear it.”

“Yes,” you bleat, as Hawks trails a hand down to your chest and tweaks at a nipple. “Yes, I want to keep going.”

“Such a good girl,” Hawks hums, reaching for your other breast to tweak it as well. “She’s such a good girl, Dabi.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dabi smirks, then delves between your thighs, unleashing his tongue on your clit. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moan, twisting in Hawks’ grasp. “Oh, fuck-”

“Loud, too,” Hawks remarks, amused. “Gimme a kiss, sweetheart.”

You obey, practically throwing yourself against his plush lips, whimpering as he sweeps a tongue against yours, forcing your mouth open. His hand grasps yours, leading it to the tent in his joggers. Without breaking the kiss, he carefully sits up far enough to pull his pants down, freeing his erection. “Touch me, baby,” he orders hoarsely, and sighs as your hand wraps around him and begins to pump. As you jerk him off, he pulls and pinches at your nipples, eliciting small whimpers from you. Dabi watches all of this from below, his tongue circling your clit as he jerks himself off. 

This is so much. It’s nearly too much, and before you know it, the familiar tightening in your stomach is threatening to snap. 

“Oh god,” you pant, breaking free from Hawks’ mouth as you look down at Dabi. “baby- baby i’m g-gonna cum-!”

“Give it to me, baby,” Dabi urges, and Hawks groans against your neck. 

“Let us see you, sweetheart. Be a good girl.”

That does it. 

Wailing, you writhe against Dabi’s mouth as everything in you breaks. Dabi holds on to your thighs, continuing his onslaught against your clit, while Hawks strokes your hair and praises you. 

“So good, baby, so pretty,” he coos, as your breath stutters and then slows. “Just a good little slut, hmmm?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, reaching for him and winding your arms around his neck. Hawks chuckles and pulls you into his lap, his erection pressed against your stomach. “C’mon, good girl,” he whispers. “Sit on my dick.”

You oblige, rising yourself up and settling back down as he pushes inside you, little by little, working your way down. 

“‘S big,” you slur, only opening your eyes to locate Dabi, who has relocated to behind the couch, pumping himself as he watches you lower yourself onto another man’s dick. His pupils are dilated, his face awed. 

“Wanna suck your dick,” you gasp as Hawks bottoms out in you and begins to guide your hips back and forth against him. 

Dabi lets out a chuckle. “Nobody’s stopping you, baby.”

Carefully, grinding back and forth on Hawks, you lean forward enough so that you can wrap your lips around the tip of Dabi’s pierced dick. He rewards you with a harsh grunt, then begins to gently fuck your mouth. 

The sounds of panting and skin slapping against skin fills the room; it occurs to you, vaguely, that you are nothing but a toy, a bunch of available, fuckable holes in this moment, and for some reason, that spurns you on further. Dabi lets you take him deep into your throat, muttering appreciation at your enthusiasm. Below you, Hawks takes your hips and roughly begins to lift you up and drop you back down against him, distracting you. 

“Oh, oh my god,” you choke, pulling yourself off of Dabi and pumping him instead as Hawks fucks you. 

“Yeah? You like it, baby?” Hawks pants, tilting his head back to see yours. 

“So-so fucking good,” is all you can make out, the way he’s dropping you back down on him is making you see stars, you can barely breathe. Dabi grins widely down at you, taking in the way your breasts bounce, your fucked-out expression. 

“Who’s my good little whore?” he croons, leaning down to stroke your face as his best friend fucks the intelligence out of you. “Who’s my dumb little baby?”

“I am, I am, Daddy,” you cry out, the familiar tightening in your tummy threatening to snap. “I’m your good little whore-”

“You gonna cum, baby?”

Your answering “yes” is echoed by Hawks, who has abandoned the premise of making you ride him and instead has begun thrusting up into you as hard as he can at this angle. Dabi watches in awe and faint amusement as you both implode, you, shaking and crying out, reaching for Dabi as you break, and Hawks whimpering into your neck, panting as he cums inside you. 

Dabi stands to the side of the couch, heating his palms and rubbing soothing circles into your back as you and Hawks both come down from your high. 

“So good,” Dabi croons. “So good, baby. You already made Hawks cum, that pussy is so good.”

Hawks doesn’t look remotely abashed as he lifts his head from your neck, peppering your cheek with little kisses. “I want to die in this pussy, baby.”

You laugh, still shaking a little from the aftermath of your second orgasm, then reach for Dabi once more. This time he obliges, lifting you up off of Hawks effortlessly and holding you to him, your legs wrapped against his waist. “Why don’t we give Hawks a little show, baby?”

You know exactly what he means, and you’re nodding before he finishes his sentence. Dabi briefly cups your face and kisses you, once, chastely, on the lips. “Gonna fuck his cum right outta you, sweetheart,” he promises, and then easily lowers you onto him, still standing beside the couch. 

Easily, almost nonchalantly, Dabi begins fucking you, holding you against him and pushing up into you. You tuck your head into his shoulder, panting as he holds to his word. You can feel yourself leaking, dripping with Hawks’ cum as Dabi’s dick fills you to the brim. Hawks jerks off, his erection restored as he stares, almost in awe, at the poetry of Dabi fucking you. 

This, to be honest, is your favorite way for Dabi to fuck you. To feel like a rag doll as he easily lifts and lowers you against his cock, the spot he hits at this angle, the way it completely makes you lose control. You stop thinking somewhere around thirty seconds in and let yourself become his personal toy, devoid of thought. You are nothing but nerve endings and pliable holes for this man in these moments and you are more than happy to fulfill that role for him. 

You don’t know how long its been or what you’ve said- you are vaguely away that you’re babbling as he fucks you, saying god knows what as you cling to his shoulders, letting him use you, when you feel it again. 

“D-Daddy,” your voice wobbles. “I’m- i’m gonna-”

“You gonna cum again, baby?” Even his voice affects you- you clench down on him involuntarily, and he groans. “Fuck, sweetheart-”

“I’m-I think i’m gonna squirt,” you gasp, and Hawks breathes in sharply behind you. “Oh god, daddy don’t stop, dont stop dont stop-”

“Come on, baby. Make a mess.” And you do.

Dabi pulls you off of him just in time; you squirt against his abdomen, rubbing furiously at yourself to prolong it, completely aware that the way you’re moving could cause you to fall, and not even remotely caring. When it’s over, you more or less collapse, curling into his chest as he carries you to the couch. Hawks helps him lay you down against the cushions, your head in Dabi’s lap while Hawks gently stretches your legs out against his lap. Dabi’s warm fingers sift through your hair. 

“You’ve done such a good job, baby.” Dabi’s fingers move from your hair to your cheek, and you nuzzle into his palm. 

“So good,” Hawks agrees, stroking your ankles. “You’re so pretty, baby.”

“Think you can do just a little more for us?”

You’re spent, exhausted, but you nod, anyway. Dabi chuckles. “That’s my good girl. Sit up for me, baby.”

You obey, and Dabi gently helps you onto all fours, facing you on hands and knees to Hawks, who is still languidly stroking himself. 

“Think you can suck his dick while I fuck your pretty pussy, sweetheart?”

Anything, anything, anything for you. 

Hawks straightens himself out on the couch, so that you’re able to lean down to run your tongue over his tip without any trouble. As you take him deeper into your mouth, Dabi begins to sink into you, little thrusts that pull him deeper and deeper into your greedy pussy, swallowing him whole. 

“You’re so good, baby,” Hawks groans, as you take him into the back of your throat. “So obedient, so pretty, so wet…”

“She’s- she’s a good girl,” Dabi pants, his thrusts quicker now, more urgent. “Aren’t you, honey? Tell us you’re a good girl.”

You lift your head briefly. “I’m a good girl,” you mumble, blushing- how you can blush over words after being in such compromising position escapes you, but here you are, anyway.

Both men groan. 

“Yeah,” Dabi sighs, then seizes your hips and begins to fuck you in earnest. You cry out, and Hawks begins to stroke himself, holding eye contact with you as Dabi pounds into you from behind. 

“Tell me you love it,” Hawks orders, suddenly brusque. 

“I-i love it,” you pant, eyes practically crossing as Dabi’s thrusts turn to an unforgiving pounding. “It’s so good, it’s so hard, i love it i love it i love it-”

“Say thank you,” Dabi pants. “Thank us for fucking you so good.”

“Thank you, thank you Hawks, thank you, Daddy, thank you, I want this all the time, I want you both, I wan- I wan cum, I-” before you know what’s happening, your orgasm hits you like a train; crying out, you push back against Dabi, your entire body shaking. 

“Oh, shit- f-f-fuck- FUCK,” Dabi moans, loudly, and you feel him pumping his cum into you. Your shared orgasm triggers Hawks, who shoots his load onto your face, panting and murmuring praise. 

All three of you slump against the couch, and against each other, a tangle of limbs. Finally, Dabi pulls you upright and back against his chest. Hawks goes to the kitchen and comes back with a rag, wiping your face clean before delivering a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“So,” Dabi chuckles, “Good birthday?”

“Good birthday,” you agree. 

Great birthday.

[outofmydepthatapublicbeach]

Maybe like a fic where you and Julien like agreed to keep it casual but like both of you want it to mean more

jj chats: hi love!!! this one took me a while and i apoligize!! i just couldn't think of a good way to write it but i think i figured it out!!

warnings: RPF, use of y/n, reader is a musician/famous, kissing, pet names

feedback is encouraged and i'd love to get some just please be kind!!!

You’re sitting around Lucy’s round dinner table, plates dirty but yet to be cleaned up. The table is filled with friends, clockwise it goes: Lucy, Naomi, you, Katie, Jo, Phoebe, and Julien. Across you was Julien, who was sipping on her lemonade. Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on her, even when she wasn’t speaking. You knew it was wrong, she wasn’t yours, you weren’t hers. But your heart was confused, and you always did want what you couldn’t have.

The conversation around you was lively, you could distinctly hear Phoebe’s howls over a joke Katie told. But you honestly couldn’t be bothered to listen. Your mind replays a moment you and Julien shared earlier in the day.

It had been early, the clock read 6:00 A.M. as you turned to the left side of the bed. Face to face with the woman who kept your heart pumping. You smiled at her as she lifted a hand to your face. You felt sparks fly as her gentle fingers brushed over your cheek. “Good morning darling,” she spoke, hand moving across your waist, pulling your body into hers.

“‘Morning Jules,” you yawned. “How’d you sleep?”

She smiled lazily, rubbing circles onto your hips “Good, especially since you were here.”

Her comment struck you wrong, reminded you that this was all a charade, that it meant nothing to her (or so you thought) “Don’t.”

Julien furrowed her brow, “Don’t what?”

You started to pull from her “Jules c’mon! Don’t say stuff like that!”

“What do you mean?”

You sighed frustratedly, “Like couplely stuff!” You threw your hands in the air, then fell back down to the bed with a slap, “We’re not together, you make that abundantly clear when we’re with our friends!” Julien’s face dropped at that, your words hurt for a reason you didn’t know yet.

“(Y/N) wait!” Julien went to grab your arms as you slid out of bed.

“Julien, please don’t. Just let me leave. It's nice until morning right?” You sigh, tired of this constant pain of never being feeling like you were enough.

You began to get up to collect your things and leave while Julien did nothing to stop you. You walked to where your jacket sat on the back of a chair, and pulled on your Converse. You located your phone and key. You were ready to walk out the door until you heard your name.

You turned around to spot Julien making her way to you. “Wait, just a minute, please?” Her eyes pleading. You gave in, just standing in her presence waiting for her to do something- do anything. You had spent months waiting for her to do something, something to convince you that these feelings you held for her were okay, that maybe they could be reciprocated.

Julien simply stood, staring into your eyes, as if taking in every engravement in your irises, surely she had to have seen the way your pupils dilated around her? How your cheeks flushed at the mention of her name. She leaned in, hand on your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss. It left you breathless and when you pulled away you immediately left.

Your mind was warped with questions.

Your mind was full of questions, memories of Julien’s hands on you, the way her lips felt-

You finally came back to reality after you felt Phoebe kicking your leg under the table. “Earth to (Y/N)?”

You shook your head, turning to face the platinum blond “Hmm?”

“Thought we lost you there for a few minutes,” Phoebe playful punched your shoulder. As you glanced around the table you realized everyone was staring at you. Your cheeks flushed as you grabbed your drink, sticking the straw in your mouth and chewing slightly. You noticed Julien staring at you, her eyebrow turned upwards.

“What were you thinking about babe?” Katie asked, smiling at you.

You started to reply, “Nothing-”

Until you were cut off by Phoebe again, “OMG!!! Or who were you thinking about!”

With that, your eyes widened and you furiously shook your head, “Nobody! I was just zoning out!”

Lucy chimed in, “Honey, we all see the way you’ve been glowing recently!! Did you find someone?”

Jo interjected, “You have to tell us who's the lucky lady!”

“There’s no lucky lady! I just zoned out!” You looked across the table, unimpressed looks were on everyone’s faces, except Julien's. She stared at you again, like she had in the morning. Only this time it seemed like she wasn’t trying to read it, more like she was understanding you. You could tell when her brows unfurrowed and she tilted her head at you.

“Whatever you say,” Phoebe sighed. Then leaning towards you she whispered “I will find this person.” then she plastered the sweetest smile on her face.

You jokingly rolled your eyes at her before saying “Whatever you say Pheebs!” Once the normal conversation started up again you stood up, grabbed your plate, and walked around the table into the kitchen. You stood at the sink, rinsing the plates off with hot water.

You heard footsteps approach you from behind and say a plate placed on the counter next to the sink. You recognized the hand immediately and in an instant, you turned around, face to face with Julien. It seemed today that her thing was to stare at you in silence because for a minute no words were exchanged between the two of you.

Finally, after minutes of hesitation, you spoke, “Julien-”

“(Y/N)-” Julien had had the same idea as you. She motioned for you to continue speaking so speak is what you did.

“Julien, I don’t think I can keep doing this with you.”

The tattooed woman had not expected that from you, her face contorted into a look that you could only describe as horror as she frantically asked “What? Why? What-what do you mean?”

You sighed, “I can’t keep sneaking around with you, I can’t keep pretending that I don’t-” You trailed off, nervous to tell her how you truly felt.

“‘-That you don’t?” Julien asked, wanting to hear your full truth.

Finally, you mustered up the courage to just say it. “That I don’t have feelings for you. Because I do.”

Julien continued to look at you, the gears in her head racing a mile a minute.

You began to step away, ready to leave her standing in the kitchen when she grabbed your arm, pulled you close to her, and simply smiled before saying. “I feel the exact same way.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, I don’t want to keep it casual with you anymore. I want you, fully.” As Julien looked into your eyes now it almost seemed that her words conveyed that. Like she did see you fully see you truly.

And suddenly it was like you two were the only two in the whole world as you started to lean in towards her. The act was like muscle memory, your head tilted left, hers right. It was engraved into your brain. The only difference was that this time you were not blocked off by my tinted car windows, or a hotel door. The only thing that separated you from the outside world was a wall with a fairly large door cut out in it.

As your lips connected it felt different this time, the experience no longer felt foreign, it felt like home. Her lips were warm and velvety, and even though you had tasted them a thousand times, this kiss was different in a million ways. It was filled with vigor, passion, and a newfound sense of hope- like this was something that would stick, not something that would simply fade away.

Until you remembered the world was just a few steps away when a large gasp brought you to your senses. Julien and you turned around, face to face with Phoebe and Jo, who held huge grins on their faces.

As yours and Julien’s cheeks flushed Phoebe giggled and joked “Told you I’d find out who you were thinking of (Y/N)!” She and Jo ran back into the dining room, no doubt telling the whole room what they had just seen.

You turned to Julien and signed, “You think we can make a run for it?”

Julien's hands rubbed up and down your arms, soothing you. She leaned in for a quick peck and replied, “Not a chance.”

[rosesloveletters]

What Lies at the End of A Rainbow.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 1,668

Warnings: sexual content / smut

Summary: The sight of Reader wearing Wonka's clothes gets him all hot and bothered.

Author's Note: I finally wrote a smut piece that's shorter than 6k!! this one might seem a little ooc, but what can I say? He's been alone in that factory for so long and he has needs lmaooo enjoy~

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

It was mid-morning when Willy Wonka was getting dressed for another day of work inside his chocolate factory and had come out of the bathroom to fetch something, though now he could not remember what; it had completely slipped his mind the moment he saw you moving about in the living area wearing nothing but one of his stark white undershirts. 

It took a lot to get him hot under the collar, that was for certain, but the sight of you wearing his clothes gave him an instant erection.

He felt like a hormonal teenager, his body buzzing like it was full of bees akin to the ones living inside of his three-course dinner chewing gum gizmo. His ears were burning and were most assuredly tinged with red and hot to the touch; had he been able to see himself he would have probably crumbled with embarrassment over pitching a tent in his trousers the second he laid eyes on you, but as it turned out, he didn’t give that a second thought because the sight of you held far too much of his attention.  His pupils were dilated, almost swallowing up the ribbons of caramel swimming inside his ocean blue irises. 

His lips parted, but for once was he completely speechless. Not until your eyes met was he able to form words.

“Gorgeous…” you heard him whisper under his breath.

Just one word murmured in that decadent cadence was enough to make your spine tingle and your lips twitch. The velvet tone of voice he used with you sent warmth straight to your core which ached and pulsed with need as your eyes raked over his half-dressed form. 

Wearing only his khaki trousers and white undershirt, Willy Wonka was only half the tastefully dressed chocolatier he normally was, but he was all yours. 

Several moves later and you were both on the couch, Wonka in a sitting position with his legs spread and you on top, straddling his lap with purpose. Your tender kisses had him all worked up, his marshmallow-soft lips parted to allow your tongue to delve in and taste the cherry-sweetness of his mouth. 

The taste of him always gave you a sugar high. 

Your delicate fingers tangled in his wild curls and he groaned deliciously as his eyes rolled back and his hips jolted up into you. You had never seen him this needy for your touch or your body; every graze of skin or kiss to his lips made his stiff cock throb. 

You shimmied backward on his lap just enough for you to unbutton his trousers and pull down his zipper while he produced a condom seemingly out of thin air. He tore open the packet, pulled out his cock and rolled the condom onto his shaft. Giving himself a few firm strokes, his head dropped back against the couch and his eyelids fluttered in bliss. 

He was ready for you almost immediately and the speed with which he did things made your head spin, but you could not wait to sink onto him and let him fill you up. 

His lips crashed onto yours like a tidal wave of tongue and teeth, unwilling to let you stop to take a breath as he entered you abruptly and set a deliberate, steady pace. 

His large, warm hands rested on your hips and guided you as you glided up and down on him. 

Willy watched you with the hint of a smirk on his face as he shamelessly made love to you in the openness of his living room. 

This peculiar behavior made you wonder what had gotten into him, but then again you did not care, so long as he kept thrusting into you like it was the only thing left that mattered. Your heightened sensitivity and the force of his thrusts made moans waterfall from your lips like melted chocolate. You had a distant thought of awareness that you were soaking the crotch of his trousers with your wetness, but neither you nor Wonka were going to stop what you were doing just to reposition.

The wet squelches coming from your core each time his hard cock slid into you sounded obscene, but not as much as the look on his face as he neared release. 

His hands slid up underneath the shirt you were wearing and cupped your full breasts, pinching your hard nipples and rolling them gently between his thumbs and index fingers. You mewled and arched your body against his; this reaction pleased him and you could have sworn you heard a faint chuckle fall from his lips. 

He sat up a little straighter, angling his hips to reach your sweet spot at the height of every thrust. 

Your head was swimming with dizzying sensation and you barely registered the feeling of his lips on your neck as he nibbled and sucked on your supple skin. He was giving you all that he had to give and with you cradling him against you as you rolled your hips onto him, you felt the familiar tension of an impending orgasm beginning to build inside you. 

“Oh…Willy…” you moaned his name breathlessly and he thrusted harder, “Willy, I’m gonna—”

He let you say no more; his lips slanted over yours as one of his hands retreated from your chest to rub your clit with his fingers, massaging your sensitive bud to the best of his ability in this position. He knew from pleasant, extensive experience that his hands worked like magic on your body and he could coax you into a mind-bending, earth-shattering orgasm with just a flick of the wrist and the right amount of pressure. 

Your lips parted and you emitted a long, low moan as your body erupted with pleasure and the heat of an orgasm flooded your senses. You were rendered silent as your climax took hold and your core throbbed with each crashing wave and milked Wonka’s cock for his own release, which he was steadily approaching with every thrust. 

His pace faltered and his hips twitched. He was on the brink and could feel a shudder travel down his spine as his balls tightened; the next thing he knew, he was spending himself inside the condom. 

You let yourself linger in the afterglow with him, the warmth spreading between your two bodies reminding you that moments of perfection like these was what lied at the end of a rainbow. 

Your mind was honeyed liquid gold and his eyes which were glued to your face reminded you of the planet, with its trailing echoes of land amidst the deep, out-stretched arms of oceans; it made sense to think of him that way, after all, because he was your entire world. 

Your fingers gently carded themselves through his mess of curls. You seriously doubted he would mind you messing up his hair, considering he had never tried too hard to keep it styled most days anyway. There were far more important things on Willy Wonka’s mind, now including whom he considered the love of his life. 

He wiped his sweat-slick brow with the back of his hand as you shifted your weight and climbed off him, his free hand outstretched to give you support. 

He removed the condom and tied it off, then carefully tucked himself away and redid his trousers before standing up to throw it away. 

You made your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up and Willy met you there, his arms wrapping around you from behind. He gave your cheek a tender kiss and he hummed in your ear, a pleased little sound of appreciation for letting him take what he had so desperately craved from you. 

“I would stay, my dear,” he sounded apologetic now as he spoke to you, “but time waits for no man. Shall I expect you downstairs a little later, then?”

Time waited for no one, not even Willy Wonka. 

You nodded in affirmation, “of course, darling. I will see you soon. Shall I bring you some lunch?”

“I would appreciate it very much if you did.”

“Then, I will.”

Willy petted your hair in response and soon he let go of you altogether so that he could finish getting ready for the day. 

He made certain that he was presentable and that no one would suspect a thing.

He ended up changing his trousers because the lingering stain of your juices was still damp and, albeit barely noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking, lovemaking was a very private aspect of his personal life and Willy intended to keep it that way. He would not subject any outsiders to even the idea that he had an active sex life; the very thought made him cringe. 

Wonka emerged from your living quarters only once he was fully dressed and deemed himself well-kempt enough to be seen. 

You stayed behind and tidied up the living space, not that there was ever much of a mess. 

Despite Wonka’s unusual schedule and the disorderly chaos of his Inventing Room, his living area was always kept neat, with everything in its rightful place. 

As quickly as the interaction had occurred was it over with and you were still puzzling over what had come over your beloved chocolatier that made him so susceptible to the desire for physical intimacy. 

Perhaps the reason would make itself known, but if you had to bet, Willy was not going to be forthcoming about what had gotten him so hot and bothered. 

He was a man constantly changing, taken by whims here and there, wherever the wind blew him. 

He made up his own mind about things and if one was not swift enough to follow him, it was best to keep in mind that there would be no explanation. 

It was one of the things that made you love him so fiercely.

He answered to no one. 

You thought that made it even more special when he chose to answer only to you.  

[blurredcolour]

so much John Brady brainrot 🤭 so that being said…..soft dom! Brady headcanons?

Oh my nonny, this ask jumped out at me like a jackrabbit and I feel like it is the perfect time to expound on the forbidden dress scenario I first touched upon around Easter.

Behold some headcannons AND a drabble

Mature/explicit themes below the cut - 18+ only

Given the fact that dear Brady rules his fort with an iron fist (see his lecture to Croz after his struggles finding, I don’t know, England?!) I definitely feel like this man prefers to be in control, but I agree that it errs on the side of a soft!Dom rather than an outright dominant

While he hasn’t engaged in penetrative sex prior to your wedding night, he’s still the one on top, in charge, executing his seduction of you like some kind of pre-flight checklist

And let me tell you it works

As your relationship grows, you definitely feel more confident initiating intimacy, usually at times and in places that leave him slightly bewildered, your desire for him something so utterly mysterious whereas it’s completely logical to him that he cannot get enough of you

But he soon takes over to ensure you get the most amount of pleasure possible, putting himself last

You never realized, however, the potential for him to be suddenly overcome by a need until you wore that seemingly innocuous dress

Securing the zipper at your side, you took a moment to check your appearance in the floor length mirror of your shared bedroom, smoothing the hem of the spring dress in your favourite colour against your knees. It had been an irresistible extravagance when you were at the department store with only socks and underwear on your list, but the neckline and style had called out to you like a siren song.

Smoothing an errant strand of hair, you grabbed your handbag and hurried down the stairs to the living room where John was waiting, scanning the paper for something of interest.

“Ready, honey. Thanks for waiting.” You smiled and he snapped the paper closed along its pre-folded lines but froze as you came into view.

“That’s…that’s new…” he intoned, expression unreadable and making you feel the need to apologize for your over-spending.

“I…yes, I indulged a little at the store, did you want me to-” the sharp shake of his head cut off your offer to take it off, to return it tomorrow.

“It’s perfect.” He exhaled, eyeing you intensely before surging to his feet. “Come on, don’t let me make us late.” He grunted and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the couch, sliding it on before leading you out to the car.

There was a different tension in the vehicle, John’s eyes flashing in your direction frequently through the short drive to the cathedral, his hand resting heavily against your lower back as he guided you to your favourite pew. The heat of his palm was soaking through the thin fabric of your dress making you shiver at the temperature contrast with the cool stone of the building.

“You chilly?” He leaned in the murmur, the roughness in his voice taking you back to your lazy lovemaking yesterday morning and your jaw dropped open as you suddenly realized just what was going on.

A glance at him to offer a reassuring smile and shake of your head revealed his dilated pupils and slightly flushed cheeks, making you sink to teeth into your lower lip. What on earth had gotten into your husband?!

You could feel the weight of his heated gaze on you like numerous caresses throughout the service, more than confident he didn’t catch a word of the sermon, pressing your lips together sheepishly as somehow you felt at fault for this predicament and yet you couldn’t really bring yourself to mind?

How many times had you found yourself staring at this man, star-struck and breathless with desire in the most inopportune of places…what a heady turn of events this role-reversal was.

As you rose to join your fellow congregants for the weekly post-service chat over coffee and cake, John’s hand slid to your lower back, his skin scorching through your dress by now.

“Would you mind if we ducked out early, sweetheart? I’ve got a bit of a headache…”

Feigning wifely concern, you nodded quickly. “Of course, Johnny, let’s get you home.”

The drive home felt faster than usual, perhaps because he barely stopped at the stop signs, his hand resting on your thigh, fingertips plucking at the hem of your dress idly in the silence of the vehicle. Stepping into the house, you’d barely removed your shoes before his mouth was on yours, hungrily devouring, as his hands seized your hips and pulled you flush against his body.

The prominent bulge of his cock pressed against your hip and you dropped your handbag to slide your fingers into his hair.

“This dress is my devil in the desert.” He growled against your lips, making you laugh breathlessly.

“I wasn’t sure you were paying attention, honey.”

Turning to press you up against the front door, he ground his aching hardness into you. “I was enduring my own test…” he nipped your lips before trailing his mouth down your neck, hands rucking up the hem to slip between your thighs.

Mewling as you pulled at his suit jacket, you clung to him as he pinned you tightly to the door and quickly wrung an orgasm from you with practiced efficiency, leaving you a knock-kneed, panting, shaking mess.

Stepping back to shuck off his jacket and yank his tie free, you reached up to pull down your side zipper, eyes shooting wide at his verbal interjection.

“Ah! This?” His fingers strayed back to toy with the hem of your dress. “No, this stays on.” He said firmly, voice taking on a deep timber that flooded you with fresh desire.

Lurching forward, you instead focused your efforts on stripping him completely, following him down to the small carpet on the foyer floor, lifting your hips as he pulled your underwear off over your garter straps and stockings. Nestling between your thighs beneath your dress, his darkened eyes hungrily drank in the sight of you as he rocked his hardened length through your damp folds until you were begging for him.

“If my wife insists.” He smirked and rocked forward, sinking into your wet heat as your mingled groans filled the foyer.

The novelty of this coupling and desperation of his thrusts, combined with the insistent circles of his thumb on your clit, meant it did not take long for either of you to find release, left a sweaty, gasping mess on the floor of the entry way.

[ridicubus]

Im ngl this is inspired by a brainwashing scene in archer 🤷🏻‍♀️

Whumpee is an agent, an agent getting much too close to the truth about their organization. They’re told to report to a safehouse for the weekend. They get in and are immediately ambushed. Waking up chairbound, in front of a screen, headphones on, eyes taped open. Head pulled back, and they see their trusted mentor.

“Didn’t I tell you to stay out of things that don’t concern you? You should feel lucky that They don’t want you dead yet.”

“Ch-chief, please, I swear I don’t know anything! I’ll never snoop around again!”

“Oh im sure you won’t, I tried to convince them that I can scare the curiosity out of you, but they have to be sure. You won’t remember anything you heard or saw for the last 6 months”

The experienced but still un-hardened agent tried to cry, but the dryness only made their eyes burn.

Whumper uses a pair of forceps to forcibly pull their tongue out, and places a few drops from a bottle on their tongue, then replace it with a rubber bite guard.

Within seconds the completely sober agents pupils dilate, and reality slips away like a pill down the sink. Electrodes are placed on their tenples, their upper back, and bottoms of their feet.

A steady, just-below-unbearable shock takes over their body, one per second. The academy had trained them to handle some torture, but of course the chief uses methods that weren’t taught. Then a quick repetition of various images, so many in a second. The hallucinations only make each image sear into their brain. Violence, gore, personal nightmare fuel for the whumpee, hand made from information obtained at the academy. They know every single thing that scares the agent, and they use them all to break their weak little brain.

Eventually gore becomes spirals and subliminals. memory loss, core cognitive function loss, short term and long term memory destruction. The agent was simply too smart to be a good weapon. They would only allow them the information they needed for the day.

Finally their memories are deleted and replaced. No more morals, no more resistance. The only things left in their head are their years at the academy. Even this weekend will be forgotten by the time they wake up in the morning.

After hours and nights of reprogramming their mind and body, they wake up fresh on monday, primed to be programmed for the day. Never remembering what happened the day before, or any of their loved ones either.

[rabbitbakery]

Dangerous deep blue (black Pearl cookie x captain caviar cookie)

This is kinda a part two to a brief reprieve but not? If u wanna read it for context you should 👁👁pretty please 🥺👉👈

(Warnings: FLUFF, cursing ig??, black Pearl cookie softening up, light mention of murder if ur sensitive to that 👍)

____________________________________

“Why must you crumbs be so stubborn…”

Black Pearl cookie growled towards the injured, stubborn sailor, her large hand keeping him still while she disinfected his wounds. It was days like this she was glad the soda from the dustgloom sea had so many health benefits. Captain Caviar cookie had gotten himself injured by a some low life pirates as he was taking his normal trip to see his Pearl. Sure he was an absolutely powerhouse, but there ain’t much he can do about swords if he can’t get close. She had her fun sending those pests to their watery grave for harming her little visitor. She always did enjoy watching them try to swim away as their dough crumbled….

“Pearly I swear I’m fine really-“ The caption stuttered before a painful hiss left his sailor lips, the disinfectant she had whipped up stinging like the devil.

“Don’t try and sweet talk me. You could’ve gotten killed! Were you even being careful out there?! And now since you were being irresponsible I had to destroy your boat to get those little pests off of you! How in the seven soda seas do you think you’re gonna get home huh?!” He winched as her loud, menacing voice, but there was concern behind it, he had really frightened her. 

“Me crew knows wher’ I am, if I don’t come back to port by the morn’ they’ll come get me thinkin ya ate me” he joked in an attempt to lighten the mood, which only earned him a glare from the serpent.

“…yer scales have gotten pinker…” His own voice drifted to concern, thinking she had some sort of parasitic infection, he knew those nasty critters were rampant in the ocean.

“….I know. I’m fine I’m not sick. You’re going to have to sleep in my den until your little lackies come and get you.” She shifted the conversation back to him, finishing wrapping up his wounds a bit more aggressively then she intended, putting him back down onto the coastal bench she was using as a clinic,

Sinking down to meet his eye level.

”lucky me~” he teased, he’s been more flirty recently. Black Pearl cookie thinks ether he has a tumor or he actually likes her, which she thinks is impossible…

“Can it you gross fuck up for a dessert I’m still pissed at you.” She growled, him having a dopy smile on his face.

“…are you ok?” Her tail swishes in the water, avoiding eye contact, god it’s strange feeling so nervous around a measly cookie. He’s supposed the be the nervous one, she could crush him with one hand…

“…yeah pearly I’m alright. Thanks for savin me, didn’t think any cookie would be stupid enough to be near dat route…” he slid back into the water swimming further up to her, still inspecting her now more vibrant scales.

“….you should really start bringing a weapon with you…” Black Pearl cookie grumbled slightly but dropped it. Without warning, she grabbed him again, dipping into the deep, swimming to her little goldmine of a den. He squirmed a bit in confusion but soon realized where in the glittery hell she was taking him.

“Good witch almighty Pearly how the hell did ye get so much treasure????” He means good god- you could pay for an entire collages student debt with all these valuables.

“Well I can’t have any cookies like yourself seeing a gem mermaid as radiant as me have an underdressed den now can I!”

She cackled proudly, bragging. Totally not secretly trying to impress him. She set him down, letting him view her spoils before swimming to her nests, getting snug.

“…do you like my nest?” Her pupils dilated, looking at him for approval. ‘She HAS to be half catfish or something’ he thought to himself. He swears if he ever told his crew about this interaction he thinks they’d throw him in a nursing home.

“‘Course I like your place lass, real cozy.” He swam closer to her, Black Pearl cookie patting the nest with her large clawed mit, giving him permission to sit with her.

They talked about anything and everything they could think of that night, one because nether of them were tired, and two… Black Pearl cookie doesn’t get company usually. She knows that’s her fault but it still doesn’t lessen the pang of loneliness that she’s struck with when he leaves. Their conversation goes to many different places and levels, from him talking about his time in the navy, to the currently migrating sweetish fish traveling north for the colder months to come. He was just… pleasant to speak too. She wondered if his crew was as pleasant to converse with as him.

Sleep that night came easier to him than to her. His small, muscular body was snuggled up in her cloud-like hair, sound asleep and the most comfortable he’s ever been. Black Pearl cookie was restless, the feeling of being so close to someone else was so overwhelming. After a millennia of loathing the thought of being near any living thing, here she layed, cozied up to a very sleepy sailor. Why is it always the sailors. 

….maybe she can savor this… just for a little longer.

[samaellevampire]

Fixation

Paring: Rain

Genre: Smut (explicit)

NSFW

Words: 1,067

Summary: Rain took his testosterone injection a short time ago. He feels like he's going crazy. He wants everything and everyone. He finally gives in and decides to satisfy himself.

Warning: Trans!Rain (anatomy: pussy, cunt, dickclit), masturbation, handjob, fingering himself, caught at the end.

Fixation part 2: here

Read below the cut people please.

Yesterday Rain gave his hormone injection under the supervision of Cumulus. Everything went well and he is very happy with it. Well...only if he leaves out a small detail. A big detail in fact.

He feels like he's going crazy.

He slept very poorly last night, as he often does in the days after his injection. This strange feeling of lack and fixation he feels. Bordering on obsession. Everything makes him think of that. Every movement, every breath, every image, every object, every person... He wants everything and everyone. His pupils are dilated and he is breathing quickly. Anyone might think they're high when they're not at all.

He just needs it.

Since waking up he has only thought about that. Even before. This is also the reason that prevented him from sleeping well. He silently fights against himself but he knows very well that he will end up giving in to his desire. He is warm. His whole body is burning. He's boiling inside.

This desire becomes necessary.

He could accuse the whole world of being against him knowing full well that there is only one person responsible for his feelings. Himself. More precisely his hormones. It must be said that the others don't help him either. Just standing a few feet away from him right now is like torture.

This morning when leaving his room, Rain came across Swiss who was wearing only a bath towel hanging around his waist as he was coming out of the shower. The multi was in the hallway talking to Cirrus. The water ghoul couldn't help but involuntarily ogle at him as he passed by.

The little ringlets of his hair, his magnificent face, his infectious smile, his soft skin, the drops of water that fall and drip down his muscular chest at that moment, his waistline, his lower abdomen and his muscular thighs... Rain bites his lower lip and unconsciously squeezes his thighs a little, just thinking about all this.

But the most interesting thing was hidden under that cursed bath towel. He had thought about falling on purpose to hope to tear off pieces of tissue because he wanted to, but he settled for walking faster to prevent the situation from turning into a tragedy.

"Hey Rain? Are you with us? Are you listening to me?" Mountain said, shaking his hand in front of his friend's face. “You’re weird today, man.”

Oops, he had also apparently forgotten the details and had gone too deep in his thoughts. Phantom, Dewdrop and him agree to go to the greenhouse so that Mountain shows them a new plant that he is proud to take care of.

The water ghoul comes back to reality by blinking his eyes several times and realizes three things. Already, all his friends are looking at him strangely, wondering what is happening to him. Then, the big ghoul looks a little upset at not being listened to by everyone. Finally, his underwear is wet. And that, that's really the thing too many. He'll explode if he doesn't do something.

"I'm sincerely sorry Mountain. I was lost in my thoughts. I'll come back to see your plant later, I promise. Right now I have uh...something to do. Sorry." Rain said looking away, taking a few steps back with an apologetic expression on his face.

He hears his friend sigh as he turns and feels everyone's confused looks on his shoulders. He's really sorry but he can't hold back any longer. He walks quickly to his room, traversing the long corridors of the ministry.

Once he arrives, he doesn't even take the time to close the door properly and unbuttons his pants before unzipping it. His pants and boxers quickly end up falling in disarray on the cold floor not far from his dresser. The water ghoul already feels the heat from his crotch spreading to the top of his inner thighs, accompanied by a feeling of wetness.

Rain lies on his back on his bed, his upper back and shoulders sinking a little into his pillows. He slowly lowers his right hand onto his body and doesn't wait any longer. He can finally let out a sigh mixed between relief and pleasure immediately after he begins to gently caress his dickclit with the tips of his fingers. The senses were flocking to that part of his body, making him so sensitive and so wanting.

"Oh fuck... I'll never wait that long again." He says, sighing again as he puts a little more pressure on his fingers.

Quite quickly, he moistens the tips of his index and middle fingers so that they slide better on his capricious limb then places them each on either side of his tiny cock to start making back and forth movements against it. He alternates with small circular movements, rewetting his fingers thanks to his transparent and viscous slick.

Not long after, he himself teases the entrance to his pussy by pressing his fingertips on the completely soaked spot. His middle finger goes in very easily because he is so excited. He gently removes it then inserts it again accompanied by his ring finger. He shivers as he feels the pleasant sensation surrounded and pressed against his two fingers. A warm, wet place just waiting to be used for personal pleasure.

Gentle back and forth movements settle in as his breathing becomes deeper. This doesn't stay long as the gentle movements become faster and more confident. His fingers on the inside make small waves movements and imitate a hook to stimulate him while his fingers on the outside press against his humid, burning skin. His eyes slowly close to make the most of it.

After several minutes had passed while he was making himself feel good, footsteps were heard in the hallway. He doesn't pay attention because he's too busy moaning softly while his breathing is rapid and jerky.

"You'll never guess what- Oh." The fire ghoul said as he entered Rain's room, laughing and looking a little more surprised when he saw the scene in front of him. He blinks a few times looking at his friend's cunt with his fingers buried inside to register the information. “Maybe...I could help you?” He doesn't even try to hide his little smirk and his voice teases because he knows very well that his friend won't be able to resist this offer.

[hellcheer-heaven]

Morning Glory - (NSFW)

Summary: Chrissy has recently moved into the Munson trailer. Eddie unfortunately wakes up with morning wood, so he heads to the bathroom to take care of it. Chrissy has a couple of ideas to help him with his dilemma.

Early morning wood wasn’t an unusual phenomenon for Eddie. A quick masturbation session took care of it and then he was good for the rest of the day. However that matter was going to change once Chrissy came into his life. Ever since she moved into the trailer, he felt that it was inappropriate to wake up beside her like this. His two choices were a cold shower or finish in the bathroom.

In the very early hours on a cool spring morning, Chrissy had turned over and felt the absence of his warm body. She could hear moaning from the bathroom, she was curious so she decided to investigate. The darkness of the trailer shielded her from Eddie’s eyes. Well then again his eyes were tightly shut as he jerked his cock within his tattooed hand. The door was left open just a crack, giving her a chance to witness the glorious sight of him masturbating. This felt so illegal to just stare, her own private show with Eddie as the star. Her pussy throbbed, moistening her panties as she kept her mouth covered. Her body heat rising at the sight and sounds of the most beautiful man fucking his closed fist.

He called her name multiple times, describing exactly what he needed, “Spread those legs. Oh fuck, play with your pussy you dirty slut. Suck my fucking cock… oh good girl, my good girl.”

Chrissy’s jaw dropped, a silent exhale escaping as she rubbed herself against the wall. Those words of his, no matter how crude, never failed to make her wet.

She couldn’t simply wait, she had to speak, “Eddie.”

His heart dropped, blood running cold despite the hotness emitting from his skin. Shit, he was so fucked! How was he going to explain himself? Well the moment Chrissy gently opened the door and turned on the light, no explanation was needed. Her cheeks were bright pink, dark pupils dilated, and her shiny essence coated upon her fingers.

Their bodies faced each other, her icy blue eyes shined under the dull bathroom light. She wore one of his band shirts, one that was clearly too big for her. She stepped forward and reached out to him, her slick covered hand making good use of his hardened cock. Eddie was at a loss for words, what felt like a nightmare turned into an amazing dream. This was clearly no dream, the way she groped and fondled him clearly indicated that this was really happening; and he loved it.

“Why are you hiding in the bathroom, Eddie?” she sweetly whispered.

“Oh fuck… ooh babe…”. Her grip began to loosen, that’s when Eddie found his words, “I- I- I got hard and I didn’t want to freak you out- oh shit!”

She offered him a tiny smirk as she gave him a good tug, her voice lovable, “You’re so considerate. Always thinking about me and my safety. Such a good boyfriend.”

His heart slammed against his ribcage, “Thank you babe, oh just like that.”

She leaned forward and pecked his neck, “You have a beautiful cock, Eddie.” Her free hand spider crawled down his back, giving his rear a playful squeeze, her voice a gentle whisper in his ear, “Baby.”

This felt too good to be true, as if he was experiencing something from one of his dirty movies. Jeans around his ankles, being handled by his lover, and getting praised. This was definitely going to awaken a thing or two in him, right now he was focused on trying not to cum too fast.

“Chrissy, Chrissy, oh fu-”

Her sweet little giggle seemed so cruel, “What’s wrong Eddie? Come on, you can tell me.”

He bit down on his lower lip, “Cum… gotta cum Chri-”

Despite the soft volume, her tone was firm, “No. You don’t get to cum yet.”

Eddie felt his legs start to shake, “Please Chrissy-”

She kissed his ear, her hand began to slow down, “I said ‘No.’ You have to wait. Good boys wait, Eddie.” Sapphire stared deeply into smokey topaz, "You will be a good boy for me, won’t you?”

His eyebrows scrunched up, a tiny smile emerging through, “Y-Yes…”

Her hand started to loosen up, “Hmm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Eddie loudly declared, “Yes!” She quickly covered his mouth, he then responded breathlessly, “Yes, I will be a good boy for you, Chrissy.”

Her princess pink lips pecked his trembling mouth, “Thatta boy.”

She held him once more, leading her beloved by his cock back into their room. Eddie had no choice but to follow, trying to remember how to breathe. His body was on fire, the flames growing with each passing moment. He adored the way Chrissy could be so kind and so demanding. Even when she barely had to speak up, he was more than ready to listen to her. To serve her, kneel before her, and do exactly as she commanded. Wow, he was really enjoying himself, perhaps much more than she realized.

“Now, take off your clothes and lay down.”

The cold air felt so pleasant upon his burning flesh, goosebumps forming from top to bottom. He was lovely, tall and slim, his chest and arms beautifully inked. The newest addition of his collection that adorned his left bicep depicted a snake slithering through a human skull. Eddie had wondered if perhaps he needed another tattoo. One that not only matched his dark and brooding aesthetic, but one that precisely indicated his undying love for her. Another time of course, right now all he had to do was present himself.

The accompanying bedside lamp made Chrissy shine, a Goddess walking towards a mortal man. She stood there, hungry eyes drinking in the gorgeous sight of him. He was rock hard, veiny shaft pulsating and twitching slightly. Nipples deliciously jutting out from his soft breasts. Red watercolor flush painted upon his pale flesh. A single finger very gently circled the very top of his bulging head. She was careful with him, tracing the shape and circumference of the tip. Soon allowing all of her fingers to gingerly caress him.

Eddie grabbed the sheets like his life depended on it, “O-Oh… oh my god.”

Chrissy gazed at him with love in her sparkling eyes, her other hand offering his length a playful squeeze. She couldn’t prevent her little giggles from coming out. He looked so sweet, hips attempting to follow her, watching her jerk him so very, very slowly.

“You’re so cute when you’re whiny,” she mentioned. “You’re just a big baby, aren’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” he cooed.

She bent down and gave the top a tiny kiss. This soon led to longer smooches and kitten licking. He shut his eyes, trying his best to focus on his breathing instead of the bubblegum pink lips and wet tongue teasing him with seemingly no end in sight.

“Eyes on me, Edward.”

Eddie watched as Chrissy let a glob of saliva land upon him, waiting for it to slide down before licking it off. Her slithering tongue was like a paintbrush, creating all manner of precise strokes with dexterity and delicacy. Very carefully swallowing him as far as her mouth could allow. This was heaven for Eddie, delicious and moist heaven. His lover taking the most vulnerable part of his physical being and offering him the kind of pleasure he had only ever fantasized about. Yet despite the tantalizing nature of Chrissy’s talent, hell was not getting the chance to blow his load down her throat. Still, being ordered by her to not cum was quite thrilling.

Beads of sweat cascaded down his face, hot air continually pumping out of his lungs. Air suddenly escaped him the moment she went down just a little more. Sucking in her cheeks and humming a little tune as she moved her head. He felt so snug in her throat, the squeezing sensation felt oddly satisfying to her. Eyes locked together once more, he looked divine, skin gleaming a hotter shade of red that continued to spread along his torso and shoulders. Eddie’s mind would forever imprint this very special and very sleazy moment.

He was desperate, he wasn't going to last, “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!”

Chrissy rested her hands upon his warm thighs, easing herself off of him. Wiping the drool and pre-cum from her newly freed mouth. She sat beside him, crossing her legs and tossing her hair to the side. She appeared so casual as if she didn’t just blow him from here to almost kingdom come.

She cradled his face, presenting a playfully mean smirk, “Poor, sweet Eddie. You’re a total mess. That must have been so hard for you.”

“Chrissy-”

“Shh, shh. You’re doing so good, Eddie. I know you wanna cum, just hold on a little longer.” Her lower lip quivered, her expression and voice oozed sweetness and sympathy, “You can do that can’t you, baby? Hmm?”

He blinked his teary eyes, “Uh-huh.”

She wiped the little trails and kissed his forehead, “I know, I know. You can do it, Eddie. You’re almost there.”

She was telling the truth, he knew that she was right. He believed her with all of his heart and he would wait, even if it took all morning. Things became all the more enticing when she removed her underwear and brought it close to his face. The soft, frilly material looked oh so good and wonderfully slick.

“Do you want a taste?” Chrissy gently prompted. “Go ahead, you deserve it.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out and savored the intoxicating delicacy that is Chrissy Cunningham. He may not have the most expensive palate, but he would gladly trade all the food in the world just to have a taste of her. Underwear or straight from the source, he didn’t care, he was glad to oblige. Chrissy nibbled her bottom lip as she watched that tongue of his clean the garment.

She cutely cooed, “Aww, look at you. You love the taste of my pussy don’t you, Eddie?” Her other hand scratched his scalp, “You’re such a slut.”

He whimpered when she threw her panties to some unknown corner, “I want more.” Her brow arched up harshly, she didn’t need to say a single word. Eddie gulped, “I- I’m sorry. Can I have more please?”

Her smile returned, “Good boy, Eddie.”

She positioned herself above his hips, pushing up the giant shirt to reveal her lovely body. Her curly covered apex sat mere inches above his dick. Pudgy labia so warm upon her fingers as she explored herself. Carefully sliding a couple of fingers into her wet apex, so close to the weeping tip.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groaned, having to restrain himself from grabbing her by the hips.

Her other hand carefully circled her clitoris, her voice so soft and breathy, “You like that? Watching me touch myself?”

“Y-Yes,” he huffed.

Chrissy chuckled, her fingers cycling her inner walls, “I heard you say those naughty things about me. ‘Spread those legs. Play with your pussy you dirty slut. Suck my fucking cock.’ You’re a dirty slut. Go on. Say it.”

His mind was losing focus, all he could hear was her voice, answering her like the mindless sex servant that he was, “I’m a dirty slut.”

“Louder,” she ordered, stroking his cock with her juices.

“I’m a dirty slut!” Eddie wailed.

His jaw slammed shut when he heard an angry fist pounding at his bedroom door. He knew the gruffness of his uncle’s voice anywhere.

“Boy! It’s three in the morning!

Chrissy pushed herself down on his cock. Smiling devilishly as she quickly covered his mouth. Wagging her finger and quietly tutting her tongue. Smugly looking over at the locked door and enjoying the madness of this moment.

Wayne continued, “What are you yelling about?”

Chrissy moved her hand aside and whispered, “Tell him you’re sorry.”

“Nothing. I’m sorry uncle Wayne. I- I- I had a bad dream,” he attempted to answer back as regularly as he could.

She tightened up around him, gyrating her hips in slow circles. Hypnotizing him with her cunt and with her breasts as she squeezed them.

“Jesus Christ, you scream like someone died in front of you. Just get back to sleep, Eddie. Goodnight.” Wayne grumbled.

Eddie nodded, shaking his head when he remembered that he couldn’t be seen, “O-Okay. G-Goodnight.”

His uncle returned to his room, and so they waited for a few minutes. Chrissy continued her erotic method of torture, relishing the pleasurable and painful expressions on his face.

She relaxed her body and shimmied her lower half, “That was a close one. Now…” She roughly grabbed his wrists and held them down, “…hold on tight big boy.”

Chrissy was merciless as she humped and bounced on top of him. He felt amazing, better than amazing! He fit perfectly within her pulsating center, filling and emptying herself to such delight. Squeezing and suffocating his member with such intensity and ecstasy. Despite his lack of working brain cells, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if he already died and this was going to be his final resting place; if that was the case he had no complaints. His fingers dug into his palms, eyes focusing on the ravishing woman taking him. She could see the love in those chocolate button eyes. He wanted to singhis praises and adoration of her, butthe most he could do was groan and say her name.. As wild as Eddie Munson could be, he was tameable. All it took was the right person to do it.

Chrissy was beginning to find it challenging to say what she wanted to as well, centering her thoughts on herself and him. Their hips did not falter, the rhythmic motion of her seeping flower kept his engorged vine under wraps. The sky looking down at the earth, pastel pink crashing down to intertwine with rose pink. The heat from their skin rising, the bed springs danced and sang a song of squeaks and creaks. Her nails pinched his skin, driving his form deeper into the old mattress, breaking the kiss for a moment to try and breathe.

She squealed, “Fuck, fuck, Eddie. Eddie… oh god!”

He mewled, “Fuck, Chrissy. Oh baby, oh my god!”

She nuzzled into his neck, sampling the salty sweat before whispering, “Cum.”

Something almost Pavlovian switched on in his head. That was it, that one single command was all it took for him to let go and finally give in. Time had stopped, he could see sparks forming before his eyes. The build up was over, Eddie came and came. His orgasm hit him hard and fast, blowing all previous attempts out the window. The rush overpowered him completely, thick ropes streaming out like lava from an exploding volcano. Chrissy wrapped her arms around him, he did the same to her. She bit down on his shoulder to prevent herself from screaming and he scratched at her back. The more he marked, the harder she clamped down. Pure, unabashed bliss between the two lovers. Bodies that willingly fell into the depths had started to gain some buoyancy once again, floating above and beyond into a cloudy space of eternal elation.

Despite the heaviness of sleep starting to take hold, he eased her back onto the bed. His grip loosened, snuggling into her chest, and offering her small kisses. She cradled him, smacking her lips to his forehead. Eddie faced him and gave her a bashful grin. She scrunched up her nose when she smiled back. They were exhausted and ecstatic. After tonight, there was no chance of feigning ignorance about those stains now.

“Hi Eddie,” Chrissy casually stated.

Eddie responded, his intoxicated grin growing, “Hi Chrissy.”

Chrissy moved the loose curls away from his face, “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? I feel fucking fantastic,” Eddie happily answered back. “Holy shit, that was amazing! Where did you learn all that?”

Her lips puckered up, letting them pop before giving him a response, “Uh… well you know, I have my little fantasies.” She began to rub the back of her neck, “And I may have found your um… video collection.”

His eyes widened, “Chrissy Cunningham, you watched one of my porno tapes? Without me?”

“What? I was curious! I mean, you’re not mad at me are you?”

He guffawed, “Babe, I don’t care if you read a ‘How To Give Your Boyfriend the Best Blow Job Ever’ guide from one of your magazines! That was fucking phenomenal!”

Chrissy touched her blushing cheek, “Oh god, Eddie.”

He held her face, his eyes sparkling with such enthusiasm, “Oh come on, don’t get shy with me. You knew what you were doing and you knew that you were amazing at it.”

She pecked his nose, “Thanks Eddie. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He quickly shook his head, smile still wide and pleasant, “Nope. Not at all. Oh shit, your back.” He turned her around and checked, leaning down to kiss the markings, mumbling such gentle apologies.

Chrissy hugged him, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine. What about your neck?”

He shrugged, “Not the first time I’ve been bitten. Well, that is, this is the first time I got myself a love bite…” The pull of sleep gripped him, causing a large yawn to come out, “…instead of a fight bite.”

The yawn passed on to her, “I think it’s time for bed.”

They settled down and allowed themselves to relax in each other’s arms. Basking in the wonderful series of lazy kisses before falling into the lovely slumber of the very early morning.

He had one more thing to ask, “Chrissy?”

“Mmhm?”

“When it’s time to get up, what do you want for breakfast?”

She giggled, “Sausage á la Munson.”

[harri-etvane]

500 words of the Laurel Grows rewrite under the cut if anyone wants a taster?

(or I can just keep the whole thing as a surprise and drop it randomly on AO3 at the end of August..) up 2 u x

“Sir?”

Maks moves beside Volodymyr as he sits, his cheek pressed against his folded arms on the desk, shoulders hunched awkwardly somewhere near his ears. Maksym crouches slightly, one hand resting against Vova's knee, rubbing his thumb there lightly, patiently, as he waits. This isn't the first time this has happened, and he's almost certain it won't be the last - but each time it tears at him anew. There are so many hours in the day that Vova sacrifices for Ukraine, and so few he cares to use for himself; just to rest for a while. He doesn't reply, too far gone in sleep despite the uncomfortable position and briefly, Maksym is tempted to let him be, just for now. However, the idea of an exhausted President in the morning with a crick in his neck, worse pain in his back than normal and inevitably in a foul mood eventually dissuades him from the idea.

“Sir-” louder now, still gentle, he jostles him slightly.

Still nothing.

“Boss? You need to-”

That, somehow, wakes him - a sudden, wrenching transition between sleeping and waking, as though Maks had shouted or pulled at him sharply. It hits Maksym suddenly. Vova looks panicked as he shakily grabs onto his phone as it lies on the desk beside him - barely noticing who awoke him. He fumbles with the phone briefly; his exhausted brain struggling desperately to coordinate his movements and failing. It takes him multiple tries to unlock it before he swipes through to the calendar app, squinting into the harsh, white light, his pupils dilated. 

“Didn't- I didn't mean t- What if-” the words are ragged and heavy in his mouth, his breathing slow - unclear entirely if he's talking to Maks, or just to himself. Something niggles at the back of Maksym's head. Vova has seemed.. off all day - something just a little off kilter, everything taking a little more effort, more energy than usual.

“No. You didn't. You haven't forgotten anything. It's okay. It's okay.”

Maksym keeps his voice steady, calming; willing Vova to look at him. He doesn't seem to notice, to respond; flooded with his own unfounded panic as he scrolls through the endless glut of meetings, appointments, and arranged phone calls that span several timezones and languages. Maks knows he didn't forget anything - he knows Vova’s schedule inside out, every trip and meeting planned down to the last second. Eventually, Vova looks up at him, his bloodshot eyes wide and worried. His face is uncomfortably pale, drained looking.

“What- what if-” 

“You haven't forgotten anyone-” Maksym's tone is gentle. “You haven't forgotten anyone other than yourself. I promise. There are no missed phone calls, no missed appointments. You can rest. It's-” He swallows hard around the lump in his throat. It reminds him keenly of those first few weeks, the incessant drive forward because if they stopped, if Volodymyr stopped - what then? The looming ghost of it all threatens to overwhelm him before he exhales steadily.

“It's okay.” Volodymyr clutches at his phone like a child with a beloved toy, as though he's terrified someone will take it from him - this lifeline that at any moment might hold someone at the other end offering out what they need so dearly - weapons, always weapons - air defence, ammunition, help. He is so unwilling to let go, his knuckles white, and Maksym sighs.

[hearts4robs]

𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥.🪞

———

———

Fandom. Harry Potter universe

Pairing. Ronald Weasly x fem!reader (she/her)

Genre. fluff/soft/sfw🍊

Word count. 722

Warnings. The word “cunt”?

Req. This wasn’t necessarily a request, but I wrote this for my friend some times back and I thought I'd share🫶

Summary. You’re gorgeous and Ron can’t help but tell you.

Notes. I felt like I wasn’t writing enough for the other fandoms so I made one😛 This is also very much not read through, it’s a bit rough writing and grammar.

———

It was early morning. One of those early mornings where the fog of the morning still painted over the fields outside and around the grounds of Hogwarts. One of those mornings where [your name] knew that [dorm mates name] would be yapping about her feet getting cold and her toes going numb.

[Your name]s toes weren’t going numb. Because [your name] was stood in the small kitchenette of Ronald, Harry, Neville, Thomas and Seamus’ small dorm room. The majority was home for the holidays leaving just Ron and Harry in the dorm. Harry was no where to be found so it was just Ronald and [your name] in the warmth of the cozy and warm toned room.

Ron rolls onto his side, stretching his arm out to grab a hold of his girlfriend. She wasn’t there. A frown paints Ron’s brows as he blinks his eyes open, squinting as he searches the room. The warmth of his thick covers were too nice and heavy for him to even try and get out of them.

He didn’t have to. [your name] was mere meters from him, 8 meters max. Her back was turned to him, a pair of home-knitted socks keeping her toes warm, pyjama pants resting around her waist and hugging her legs just right. A loose band t-shirt that Ron had no idea who the owner of it was, draped over her shoulders, the loose fabric oversized on her, revealing her left shoulder. Ron smiled lazily to himself as he watched his girlfriend’s [your hair colour] hair fall down her back, her feet quietly shuffling against the hard wooden floors as she makes herself her morning mug of tea.

Ronald’s head was fuzzy with all sorts of emotions. His pupils dilate slightly, his eyes flickering up the curves of his girlfriends body. His hand sinks into the soft fabric of the pillow [your name] had borrowed for the night. He tugs it to his chest, his nose nuzzling into the fabric as he breathed her in, a tired and groggy sigh leaving his nose. [Your name] heard this and she turns her head, her body soon following.

“Good morning, cunt.” She mutters, her own voice rough from the cold night of sleep. Ron’s eyes followed her as she walking to the bed. Ron has never placed his head in her lap so fast as she took a seat on his bed. He didn’t mind the degrading nickname. It was rare she called him something nice or endearing.

His arms wraps around her waist, his fingers digging into her flesh in an attempt to get closer, to feel her presence better. A breathy giggle leaves his girlfriends lips as her fingers run through his hair. He lets out a content sigh as his muscles relax, a hum vibrating his lips as he lays there.

“Did you sleep well?” [your name] asks, her voice almost making Ron squeeze her even tighter. He merely nods slowly, nuzzling closer to the warmth of his girlfriend.

“What about you?” He asks, his voice rough and laced with sleep as he looks up at [your name], his eyelashes fluttering slightly. [Your name] nods as her hand tracked to his cheek. His flesh melts into her hand as he tilts his head closer.

The warm liquid of [your name]s morning tea burns against her lips, her focus on the mug, careful not to drop it or spill all over Ron. Her thump drags gently across Ron’s cheek as she sits there in silence, Ron’s sleepy and slightly stuffed nose making his breathing the only audible sound in the room. A few minutes pass by with Ronald just laying there and [your name] holding him.

“… You’re beautiful, [your name].” He confesses, his voice quietly and rough from the lack of use. [Your name]s cheeks doesn’t take more than a few seconds to reach the same temperature as the tea in her mug.

“Shove off, dickhead.” [Your name] pushes Ron’s head off of her lap as she stands up, her nose wrinkling as she, despite her suppressed smile, walks away annoyed. Ronald hand help but smile as she watches her. She was beautiful even then.

[the-hinky-panda]

"I'm not American's Sweetheart"

Part I found here

This was definitely not a good idea. 

He needed to keep a low profile. The real IRA allowed him back in the country but that didn’t mean all was forgiven. He needed to keep his head down and his nose clean, keep a low profile. Chibs is certain going into one the loudest nightclubs in Belfast and dragging you out of the corner booth where two local men are enjoying your lack of inhibitions at the moment is not keeping a low profile. Their hands are all over you but you’re completely oblivious as you’re trying to talk to someone across the table. 

“Lass!” he shouts over the deep bass of the music. “Let’s go!” 

You turn glassy eyes towards him. Your pupils are dilated, wide open and black. But your smile is radiant when you see him. It always is, drunk or sober. “Chibs! You made it!” 

“Who’s this?” one of the men says, “Your father coming to take you home?” 

Chibs steps up to the table, moving his jacket to the side just enough to show the leather shoulder holster for his daggers. “Aye, something like that.” 

One of the men acknowledges the threat and moves away. The other keeps his arm around your waist, oblivious to the danger he’s in at the moment. “What are you going to do, Grandpa?” 

Before he can do anything, you elbow the guy, direct shot to the ribs, and knock the air out of his lungs. “That’s rude. I don’t like people who are rude to my friends.” You then slide, with much more grace than he expects you to use, out of the booth. Turning around, you pick up the jerk’s whiskey glass and finish what is left in one go. “It’s been fun boys.” 

The one is still rubbing his side. “I didn’t take you for being an American bitch!” 

You toss a laugh over your shoulder. “I’m certainly not an American sweetheart.” 

He finds you tend to wander through the crowd. You’ve made friends with almost everyone in the room. He’s not surprised per say, you have that larger-than-life personality that draws people towards you. It certainly drew him into your orbit. But the blackout drinking and drug use, the lengths you went to numb yourself, the baggage you carry is too heavy for him to carry. 

It’s the third time you’ve meandered back onto the dance floor that his patience runs out. He grabs your arm and pulls you away from a group of four women. He tucks you against his side, his grip vice like as he navigates you out of the nightclub. It works, he gets you out of the building and into the taxi waiting outside to take you both back to the hotel across town. How you managed to find this particular nightclub is beyond him. 

Once you’re both in the backseat and the car starts to move, you stay pressed to his side. Your perfume, a sharp clean scent of eucalyptus mixed with the softer floral tones of jasmine almost overpower him now. Your make-up is minimal, which is normal, but your hair is down instead of pulled back in a braid. Your eyes are still showing signs of your inebriation and he wishes he could see more color in them. You really do have lovely eyes. 

“Thanks for coming to get me.” 

“Dinnea have much of a choice.” 

You wrap your hand around his, your fingers fiddling with his rings. “Yeah, you did. You could have left me on my own. Hope I just show up later this morning.” 

He could have. He had thought about doing that, actually. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even sit still. His concern about what trouble you were getting yourself into was overwhelming. It didn’t take much to figure out which nightclub you would be headed to and he was relieved to find his instincts had been right. He cares about you, that is abundantly clear. And also quite worrisome. You’re a fucking mess. He doesn’t want to spend his time chasing after you to make sure you’re safe. 

“I like you, Filip.” Your voice is quiet, thoughtful. 

He turns his hand slightly and slides his thumb over the ridges of your knuckles. “I like you too, luv.” 

You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

He’s not sure what you’re apologizing for: making him come find you, liking him as a friend or something more, or the fact that he does return those feelings as well. Either way the answer is the same. “Me too.”