#he can deny it all he wants and pretend he just likes seeing what she does and her reactions

[hsunrry]

wedding // one shot harry styles

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request.

words: ~3,5k

warnings: smut18+, cheating, angst (i guess), mention of being hit, fingering, oral (f receiving), protected sex

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“ready to see me?” you asked excited from behind the bathroom doors that was built in your room. tomorrow is your wedding and you wanted to show your best friend Harry how you look like in the dress.

“go ahead.” he called. when you walked out from the bathroom and stepped to the room he swallowed thickly. “you’re…” he cleared his throat. “i mean you look beautiful, really.”

“thank you.” you only smiled. he was sitting at the bed you were sharing with Denis- your future husband. situation was difficult. you loved him, of course. but there was a person you loved more, unfortunately. you didn’t really wanted that marriage, but your mother was pushing it so hard it was almost painful to hear all the time, so you decided to just give in and do it for your own sake, since you never even thought that your feelings could be reciprocated. little did you knew- you were the love of his life. you thought the same, you were sure he was the love of your life. but instead of getting married with him, he was looking at you in wedding dress, ready to marry someone else. it was painful, for the both of you. he was looking at you from the bed, like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. because for him- you were. he let out shaky breath.

“can i tell you something?” his eyes roamed over your body in this dress one more time. you nodded, sitting next to him. “this gonna sound crazy, god, i don’t even know why am i doing that.” he chuckled nervously.

“come on, i heard a lot crazy stuff coming out of your mouth.” you smiled, looking at his nervous expression.

“i’m in love with you.” he looked at you and you thought that you’re gonna throw up.

“wait, what?” you spoke after few seconds, blinking few times. he nodded slightly.

“yes i… i know you’re getting married tomorrow and that it’s probably the worst time i could tell you this, but i want you to know before i lost you for good.” he confessed. his leg nervously bouncing up and down. you were only looking at him with shocked expression.

“why are you telling me this now? i’m getting married tomorrow Harry.” you shook your head.

“because i know that if i didn’t say something, i’d have to watch you with some other guy for the rest of my life. i can’t keep pretending that you’re not the love of my life, because you are.” he said, feeling already that it was too late for that. he swallowed, looking at you. “i just… please, i just need to hear that you don’t feel the same and i’ll try to move on. i need to hear that.” he looked at you desperately.

“i can’t say it.” you said quietly and you could see hope in his eyes. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “this it’s so complicated, god, why didn’t you said anything earlier?”

“i was afraid that you don’t feel the same.” he grabbed your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “do you feel the same?” you only nodded. “so why did you decided to marry him?”

“it’s just… i never thought you could feel the same about me. ever. i said ‘yes’ to him, mostly for my mother. she was pushing it so hard.” you explained. he wasn’t looking at you, but at your hand in his.

“please, don’t marry him… you could be mine. all mine.” he looked at you again. “i love you, i’ll do it for the rest of my life, i’ll treat you better than he treats you. you’re the love of my life, y/n.” desperation in his voice was almost killing you. the way he was looking at you. you could see the love in his eyes, it was so different from what Denis was doing. you knew he’d treat you better. but most importantly, that you loved him more than you could ever love Denis. in very different way. “please, don’t marry him.”

“this is crazy, you know that?” your eyes lingering at your intertwined hands. he chuckled lowly, bringing your hand to his mouth, kissing it.

“i know, but maybe we’re just crazy for each other.” he smiled, giving your knuckles another lingering kiss. you bite inside of your cheek, thinking. he was hopeful, that you’ll choose him. “please, don’t do that. spend your life with me, i promise i’ll make you happier than he ever could. i’ll give you everything and i know, that you know i’ll do that. you know me like no one else.”

“jesus, this is so complicated now.” you sigh, looking at him.

“i know and i’m sorry. i should’ve say something sooner, but i was too scared, so i’m telling you this now.” he shifted his body closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand. “please, tell me you want me. say you don’t want to marry him. that you’ll be mine.”

“Harry…” you licked your lips slightly, looking at him this whole time. you swallowed quietly.

“say it, baby. say that you’ll be mine.” he watched your tongue slowly licking your lips. he started to caress your cheek with his thumb, leaning closer with his face to yours.

“fuck it.” you gasped, pressing your lips to his. he groaned when he felt the contact, immediately kissing you back. your lips moving slowly, feeling perfectly against each other. he pulled you into his lap, cupping your cheek back right after. his tongue begging for entrance to your mouth when he licked your lower lip. his free hand going up and down your waist slowly. you both moaned quietly when your tongues met, his hand went from your waist to your thigh, touching you over the material of the dress. “take this thing off me, i don’t need it anymore.” you said between kisses. he pulled back from the kiss, looking into your eyes.

“are you sure?” he was searching in your eyes for hesitation, anything really. but when you nodded he smiled. “i can’t wait to take this off you then. i want to mark you, to show everyone that you’re mine.”

“baby, are you in there?” you could hear knock on the bedroom door and Denis’s voice right after. you both froze. you looked at him.

“i have to tell him that it’s over.” you bite inside your cheek. he nodded, giving you quick peck on the lips. you stood up from his lap, going to the doors and unlocking it. you opened them, seeing how he quickly covered his eyes with his hand.

“what are you doing? i’m not supposed to see you in the dress before our wedding.” he chuckled. you swallowed quietly.

“we need to talk.” you said, looking at Harry for brief second.

“sure sweetie, but change first, it means bad luck if i see you and i don’t need bad luck in our marriage.” he smiled, still covering his eyes with his hand.

“Denis, i’m not gonna marry you tomorrow.” you sigh, looking at his reaction. he uncovered his eyes, looking at you concerned.

“w-what? i don’t understand… what are you talking about?” he chuckled nervously.

“i can’t be with you.” you swallowed quietly.

“what are you saying? i thought you love me, we’re engaged for months!” his eyes narrowed, he finally noticed Harry sitting on the bed, but he didn’t said anything just yet. his eyes went back to yours.

“i’m really sorry Denis, i didn’t planned that…” you took off your engagement ring, handing it to him. he grabbed it, looking down at it in his hand.

“are you seriously doing this? you’re telling me that you’re breaking our engagement the night before our wedding? is this some kind of prank or something?” he asked, looking at you like you just escaped mental hospital. you only shook your head. “how long have you been feeling like this? you said you love me, you agreed to spend the rest of your life with me! how can you be so heartless telling me this when we’re supposed to get married tomorrow?!” he snapped.

“i’m really sorry.” you almost whispered.

“so that’s it? we’re officially over? what am i supposed to tell our friends and family? it’ll break your mothers heart, you know that?” he was mad. his hand clenched on the engagement ring.

“i don’t care what my mother will say about that, i’ll handle it.” you saw him looking into Harry’s direction.

“is this because of him?” he looked back at you.

“it doesn’t matter.” he scoffed at your words, lingering his gaze at him.

“it doesn’t matter? you’re dumping me for your best friend and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter? we were together for over two years! all my friends knew i was going to marry you, my parents were so happy that we’re finally taking this step! you can’t just throw it away like that!” he yelled, causing your flinch.

“i love him.” you whispered, looking up at his face. his eyes went back to your face.

“for how long have you been sneaking around with him behind my back?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he was supposed to marry you tomorrow, but there you were, confessing that you love someone else.

“i never cheated on you, it’s not like that. i wouldn’t take it that far if i knew earlier that he love me too.” you pinched your hand nervously few times. his gaze softening.

“please baby, you have to be joking. this is a joke, right? please don’t tell me you’re actually in love with someone else…” he was desperate, looking at you pleadingly. you only shook your head saying quiet ‘sorry’. he sigh deeply. “you were always saying that you love me. that you want that, that you want us. now, you’re telling me that you just… fallen out of love with me?… just like that?” his eyes were just simply sad. the way he was saying all of that was too much.

“you deserve the truth, so i’ll tell you.” you started, looking for brief second at Harry. your eyes went back on Denis when you continued. “i’d never thought, that Harry could ever feel the same way about me. it sounds cruel, but he’s the love of my life. not you Denis. i’m sorry.”

“so what?” he clenched his jaw, anger building in him at Harry’s name. “you think you’ll just live happily ever after with him? you think he’ll treat you better than i would?”

“you really wanna talk about treating me better?” your eyebrows raised in disbelief. his face went pale.

“i- i’ve treated you great, no? i’ve given you everything… money, stability, love, home-“

“some bruises and cuts sometimes too, but you weren’t planning to say this out loud, hm?” when you said that, Harry’s brows furrowed. his hands clenched on his sides.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you, babe. i’m sorry, i’ll change, i promise.” his voice cracked softly when he was talking. “i’ll be better, i promise, just give me one more chance.” he grabbed your hand with his.

“i love Harry, you can’t change that.” you looked at him going on his knees. “i’m sorry it all happened like that.” he looked pathetic. his eyes were wide, his skin ashen. he looked like his entire life was burning with your words. maybe because in fact, it was like that. he knew it was over. he wanted to beg, he was ready to do everything, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. it was like realization hit him. he let out shaky sigh, going up from his knees, but still holding your hand in his.

„what do you want me to do now?” he asked, without any emotions in his voice.

„you have to let me go.” you answered quietly.

„you’re killing me baby…” he chuckled in disbelief. „you’ll… you’ll be happy with him? you’ll be treated better?” you nodded at his words. „you deserve that. you deserve to be treated better than i treated you.” his eyes lingering on your face and then your body. „you never looked more beautiful than in that dress.” he smiled weakly.

„i hope you’ll find someone for you.” you smiled softly.

“yeah…” he mumbled. “it was supposed to be you, you know? i always dreamed of marrying you, growing old with you… having family with you.” he swallowed thickly.

“i know Denis, i’m sorry.” you said quietly, looking at your hand in his. mention of family brought a new sort of hurt in his eyes.

“i always thought we’ll be great parents together. i just knew you’d look amazing with baby bump.” his smile weak and full of pain.

“stop saying things like this. you’re only hurting yourself more by saying that.” you pulled your hand away from his. he froze at sudden lack of contact. it was like he couldn’t accept that you’re not his anymore. that he won’t be able to touch you, hold you, kiss you.

“before i leave, can i ask you something?” you smiled softly and nodded. “if i hadn’t done anything wrong, if i had never laid my hands on you, would we… would we still be together now?

“i don’t know that.” you shook your head slightly. he accepted your words, looking at Harry now.

“i hate you, you know that?” he said firmly.

“yeah? you can hate me all you want. i never liked you a bit and now that i know you laid your hands on her, you better be grateful that you’re still alive.” Harry smiled rudely at him.

“you have no idea how much i just want to punch you right now. for taking everything i ever dreamed of away from me. for stealing the love of my life.” he looked like he was about to jump on him every second. you speak up to avoid the situation.

“it’ll be better if you just go now.” Denis looked at you, his face softening. he only sigh quietly and nodded.

“i’ll go to my parents for tonight.” he swallowed. “i hope you’ll be happy, you deserve it. goodbye, my love.” he almost whispered, going out from the bedroom. few seconds later you heard front door closing.

“you okay, baby?” Harry wrapped his hands around you, pulling you close to his chest. he kissed the top of your head.

“yes, i… i should feel bad about this, right?” you pressed your cheek to his chest. “it’s cruel that i feel happy.”

“there’s no need to feel bad. you’re allowed to feel happy now, maybe it is cruel, but… it’s how life works. you can’t force yourself to be with someone who you don’t want to be. everything’s fine.” he caressed your hair, holding you close. he smiled. “he was right about something tho, you really look beautiful in that dress.” you looked up at him with a smile. he leaned down, kissing your lips softly. “i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” he smirked right after his words. “but for now, i can’t wait to spend this night with you.”

“yeah? then take this dress off me.” you licked your lips slightly, smiling at him this whole time. his hands immediately went to your back, where the zipper was. he slowly started pulling it down. wedding dress pooled around your ankles, exposing your body. he looked at while laced set, his eyes darkened.

“you’re so impossibly beautiful.” he touched lace of your bra over your breast. his touch gentle. his hands continued to moving around your body, when in meantime you started to unbutton his shirt. you were looking up at him this whole time. you pushed shirt off his shoulders, touching his chest right after. he let out shaky exhale, squeezing skin on your waist. your hands went down to get rid of his pants. he pressed his lips to yours right after you took them off, backing you both towards the bed. he sat on it, making you stand between his legs. he left lingering kiss on your stomach, looking up at you in this position. his hands went to the clasp of your bra, undoing it. he let out quiet groan when he looked at you only in panties. “god, how can someone look this perfect.” he gasped, leaving kisses all over your chest, sucking in few places. his hand went to cup one of your breasts, teasing your nipple with his thumb. he took care of the other one with his lips, licking and sucking gently. you moaned quietly, putting your hand into the back of his hair. his free hand went to touch your core over your panties that were already drenched. you never felt like this in your entire life- it was almost like he was worshipping you. “can we take this off?” he grabbed edges of your panties.

“yes.” you smiled at him. he quickly took them off, his dick twitching in anticipation in his boxers. he stood up from bed, picking you up and laying down on bed. before he hovered above you he took off his boxers, freeing himself from tight material. his kisses started on your neck, going down to your collarbones, chest, stomach, when finally his lips hovered over your core. he looked at you, silently asking if it’s okay. when you smiled at him he opened your legs more to have better access. he started kissing your folds, causing your gasp. when his lips met your clit you arched your back slightly, moaning. he smiled against your pussy, licking and sucking slowly on your sensitive place. his hand went under his chin, pushing his two fingers into your wet slit. you clenched at his digits automatically at the contact. you putted your hand into his hair for some more contact, hearing him moaning into you at that. action sent vibrations, adding to the sensation. his fingers curled into perfect angle, making you go insane from this and his mouth. you’d never thought that it all could feel that good. “oh my god.” you only managed to gasp. he was moving slowly, clearly wanting to prepare you for his cock. he eventually pulled out after few minutes, licking his fingers clean. he went back with his lips to yours, kissing you. you could taste yourself on his tongue, so you hummed quietly. when you break the kiss you smiled at him. “top drawer.” you said and he looked from you to the bedside table. he opened the drawer, taking a condom from it. he quickly opened it and rolled it on his length. he positioned himself between your legs, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“i love you.” he smiled, pressing soft kiss on your mouth.

“i love you too.” you smiled back, feeling him slowly entering you. his eyes searching for any discomfort, but when he found none he started slowly moving in and out.

“god, you feel so good, so perfect.” he gasped, leaning to your neck and kissing it. your hands went on his back and your legs around his hips. he wrapped his arms around you to feel you as close as possible. his breath was hot against your skin. your gasps and moans were driving him crazy. he picked up the pace when your nails started digging into his skin slightly. “i want to make you feel so good.”

“you’re already doing it.” you caressed his back with one hand. when he adjusted slightly you found yourself almost crying out of pleasure, when he found spot Denis was never able to reach. you let out desperate whine and he started moving even faster. he couldn’t hold back anymore. the way you were moving under him, the way you sounded. your back arched towards him, making you both even more skin to skin. his arms tightened around you and you could already feel your orgasm approaching. “oh my fucking god.” you panted, tilting your head back.

“look at me.” he gasped, looking at your face. “i want to see your eyes.” you quickly obeyed, looking at him. he grinned, moving even faster. his movements desperate already, chasing his own climax. “i don’t know how long i can hold that, you feel too good.”

“i’m close, so close, please.” your one hand went from his back to cup his cheek. he licked his lips, moving faster. you kissed him, moaning loudly into his mouth when you finally fell over the edge. your whole body arched and your core clenching around him, milking his length. he moaned himself at the feeling of you squeezing your cunt around him. he fucked you through your orgasm.

“fuck.” he panted, feeling himself emptying into the condom. his dick pulsating inside you, his hips twitching from intense pleasure. after you both get down from high he peppered your face with kisses, making you chuckle softly. last peck lingered on your lips and when he pulled out he looked into your eyes. “you’re truly the love of my life, baby.”

[creamecream]

"Melting under blue skies,

Belting out sunlight,

Shimmering love,

Well baby, I surrender to the strawberry ice cream,

Never, ever, end will this love,

Well, I didn't mean to do it, but there's no escaping your love,

These lines of lightning mean we're never alone, never alone, no, no,

Come on, come on, move a little closer,

Come on, come on, I wanna hear you whisper,

Come on, come on, settle down inside my love,

Come on, come on, jump a little higher!

Come on, come on, if you feel a little lighter,

Come on, come on, we were once upon a time in love,

We're accidentally in love,"

Magnolia May belongs to @abyssnighthawk

[verstappen-cult]

GETTING CAUGHT MAKING OUT WITH THE BOYS | F1 GRID

INTRODUCING THE BOYS. lando norris. charles leclerc. oscar piastri. max verstappen. alex albon. daniel ricciardo. mick schumacher. logan sargeant. BONUS. . . lance stroll.

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

it stared with a couple of innocent kisses in lando’s driver room before the race. you don’t usually engage in that kind of behavior at least until after a race, but lando was feeling a little under the weather and while you were only trying to comfort him, he had other plans. and, well, if that makes him feel better you won’t deny him a little bit of fun. now, you’re straddling your boyfriend’s thighs, it’s hot and you want to rip your top and his fireproofs off, and lando, as always, is one step ahead of you. his hands slip under your shirt, the pad of his fingers softly caressing your skin as his lips find the pulse point on your neck. you don’t know if the whimper you hear belongs to you or lando, the only thing you know is that the race can wait a few minutes.

“lando it’s time to g–” you don’t hear the end of the sentence because lando’s race engineer it’s too stunned to finish speaking. you’re quick to jump off of your boyfriend’s lap, but you’ve been caught and it’s impossible to deny what you were doing, there’s evidence on yours and lando’s face. the man just laughs and closes the door, saying something about keeping his head clear of any distraction.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

you were just trying to help charles clean his shirt after you spilled your drink on top of him. but he was so close to you, his breath tickling your cheek and sending a shiver down your spine, and it just happened. the kiss was shy at first, both of you uncertain of what you were doing. but then you were being lifted up by charles and sat down on the sink, legs immediately parting to make room for him. you didn’t care that you were in dani’s guest bathroom and anyone could walk in on you, you also didn’t care when charles’ hands found your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh while his mouth kept the assault in yours, neither did you care when those same hands lifted your dress up, up and up until you could clearly feel the effect your kisses were making on him.

you were ready to ask charles to do something when the door opened startling you both. charles stepped away and you jumped off the sink, trying to brush your hair and looked presentable to the owner of the house who was now looking at you, surprise written all over his face before bursting out laughing. “guys! you won’t believe this!” it only took a panicked looked between you and charles for the boy to sprint down the hallway to try and shut his friend up.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

you don’t know if australia has something in the air or if being in oscar’s childhood bedroom is making you feel a certain way. but the second the door closes, you’re leading him to the bed. oscar is a little uncertain at first and looks like he’s about to say something, but the words die in his throat the moment your lips find his. he doesn’t wait a minute in taking control, and lays you down on the bed, his body on top of yours. then your impromptu kissing session it’s not enough, you need to feel him closer, you want his hands everywhere.

“would you like some lemonade?” it’s too late for you to pretend to be doing something else than being in an intense making out session when oscar’s mom, the woman you’ve just met that same day, opens the door. when she sees the scene, she quickly closes her eyes, hiding behind her hands. it would make you laugh if it were any other situation. oscar doesn’t move but looks like a deer caught in the headlights. “i did not see a thing!” you would pretty much prefer for the earth to swallow you whole than to face the woman again.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

it’s not max’s fault that you look so, so good in that damn dress that all he wants is to rip it off of you. if the FIA gala wasn’t so important—it’s not. not for him, at least—he would get out of there immediately. instead, he has to settle with crowding you against a wall in a secluded corner of the building when he finally has some time for you. he can barely keep his hands to himself, and is touching you even before you can feel his lips against yours. max whispers sweet nothings as his lips go from your mouth to your neck and then up again, making you feel dizzy. he lifts your dress up around your thighs, and you allow him access in a heartbeat, not caring about anything but how addicting his kisses are.

“ejem,” a cough makes max pull away, and doesn’t hesitate on shielding your body with his, giving you enough time to fix up your clothes. “we’re next.” christian horner tries to look at anywhere but you, and you don’t know if you’re supposed to laugh or feel ashamed. both, probably. max dismisses him with a simple nod of his head, and once you’re alone, max goes back to what he was doing before. you still have a few minutes to spare, he says.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

you were having the time of your life choosing an outfit for a party next week, your boyfriend waiting for you just outside the changing room; you actually were focused on trying to zip up a beautiful black dress you had chosen when the door opened, revealing alex with a mischievous smile on his face. as quick as he opened it, he closed it behind him. you didn’t question him, it’s definitely not the first time he’s done something like this, so, you, more than happy, welcomed him with open arms and a set of pink and plump lips. and alex is immediately swiping his tongue across your bottom lip and kissing your properly—kissing you so slow while gently cupping your face, trying to take as much as he wants from you, and you’re ready to give it to him freely.

“is someone there?” a girl’s voice startles you both, but before you can think of hiding alex or saying something—not that you can with your boyfriend’s mouth against yours—she’s opening the door. neither you nor alex know what to do other than to stay very still and very quiet, as if that would make the girl forget what she saw.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

you told daniel that hiding in the airplane bathroom to make out wasn’t a good idea, but you still got up and went voluntarily when he gave you the signal. waiting for him to knock was torture, you were pretty sure you were going to get caught. but when you opened the door and your boyfriend pulled you in to finally kiss you, you forgot about everything. the way daniel kisses should be illegal—how he lets you take the lead until your kisses become sloppy and your head feels dizzy and you can’t keep up with it because it feels so good. then he takes control, gripping your waist with such force it’ll leave marks; the mere thought makes you weak in the knees.

“open up! you can’t do that in here.” a huge knock on the door makes you pull away, but daniel doesn’t let you go, chasing after you until you give up and kiss him again. this time the kisses are more intense and the tiny bathroom it’s too warm and you’re wearing too many clothes. the person behind the door is forgotten the moment daniel gets so close that you become one. you’re already in trouble, so, it’s doesn’t matter if you stay a few more minutes in there.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

kissing at clubs is not something you would’ve done in the past, not even when lights are so low and no one cares what the person next to you is doing. but ever since you started dating mick, there are a lot of things you’ve already done that you never thought you would do. and making out in a corner of the club with mick pressing against the window, his body molding into yours just in the right spots is definitely one of them. mick is practically knocking the air out of your lungs with the way he’s kissing you, and you have to hold onto his shoulders afraid of melting to the ground. you don’t know where you are, and you really don’t care as long as mick keeps kissing you like that, so you don’t push him away when you feel his hand making its way up your thigh, getting closer to where you need him the most.

but then you hear people laughing. mick pulls away first, groaning for being interrupted, but then you look around and you’re right next to the bathroom from where a group of girls are walking out. you feel all the blood in your body rushing to your face, they look amused but you want to disappear. you hide your face in your boyfriend’s chest and don’t look up until mick is the one lifting your chin up to kiss you. this time he takes your hand while saying something about going home to finish what you started.

★ — LOGAN SARGEANT (2)

it’s childish. and all of you are adults. you definitely should not be playing truth or dare in a party like thirteen years old. however, you don’t say anything when oscar dares you to spend seven minutes in the closet with logan. it’s true you both have been dancing around each other for a while now, what you didn’t know it’s that it was so obvious for everyone around you too. the cheering from your friends dies down when the door closes and you and logan are alone. you look into each other’s eyes for a minute, pure silence in the secluded space, then logan glances down at your lips and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize he’s asking for permission. your eyelashes flutter as you take a step closer, and he wraps his arms around your waist without a trace of hesitation. you’re gasping into his mouth the next second, his lips warm and soft. his fingers brush along your jaw and, in that moment, you decide this won’t be the last time you’re gonna be tasting his lips, you want to do it every hour of every day.

but then the door opens and you immediately pull away as if you’ve been burned. there are a lot of eyes looking between you and logan for a moment before someone shouts “fucking finally!” and everyone’s laughing and cheering. when you look at logan again, he has a lopsided grin plastered on his face.

★ — LANCE STROLL (18)

lance made sure you two were alone in his parent’s house before taking you in his arms and sitting on the couch. he smiles at you with the same bright and pretty smile that stole your heart one time two years ago as you run your hands through lance’s hair, down his neck and over his shoulders, letting them rest on his chest. lance grabs onto your waist and meets your lips halfway, all his body relaxing immediately. he kisses you so softly but determined, licking into your mouth when you give him access, like it’s his last day on earth and he needs you to keep breathing, surviving. you let his hands roam freely over your body and you can feel your heart pounding so hard, almost as if it’s gonna jump out of your chest and you can’t do anything about it. when your boyfriend’s hands graze your lower back for a second before grabbing your arse, a tiny mewl escapes you.

and as you’re about to grind down, “oh my god!” lance’s sister screams in surprise. you both look at her, more embarrassed than afraid. you know your cheeks and ears are as pink as the shirt you’re wearing, and you feel like your skin is actually burning. ”well, i guess we had the same thought.” she says stepping aside, her boyfriend coming into view with a shy smile on his face.

requested by @biancathecool. . . The boys (individually) Nd fem!reader getting caught making out, with the driver having thier hands shoved down their gfs pants or up their shirt 🫠❤️ Alsin if you could please add lance in this one.

© VERSTAPPEN-CULT ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP fanfic Idea: Lights and Camera

"There he is," Tim whispered, looking out from behind the library bookshelves. Besides him, Bart, Kon, and Cassie lean over him, stacking each head on top of each other so they can adequately see who Tim is pointing out.

Across the libary, Babs shales her head with a sigh but doesn't call them out. For one, it would be unnecessary loud and another....well, she enjoys having blackmail on her vigilante coworkers and the Young Jutice team climbing on top of each other to stare at a random civilian was the good kind. She turns back to her list of books to stamp and scan back into the system.

Tim had mentioned seeing someone he wanted to recruit for his and his teammates' fake online clothes store. It was the cover the teens had come up with, for an explanation on how they all had such different backgrounds but had still become friends.

The other bats thought it was a mere cover, but Babs knew how seriously Tim took his fake store. It was mostly due to Tim's team making very realistic cosplay outfits that are commissioned to their site. Since they catered to such a nitch community Tim wanted each job to be perfect. (Also he's a nerd like that)

Or maybe it had everything to do with Tim's not-so-secret adoration of photography.

Bart made the clothes, Cassie and Conner modeled and Tim took all the photos. It helped that the speedster was used to making clothes in the post-apocalyptic future, but no one could deny his master of the needle. Cassie and Conner were both rather good looking, and they seemed perfectly fine with showing off this fact.

The thing is, their store is starting to gain traction. If it weren't for the fact, Bart could move as fast as he could, Just Us fashion would be behind orders for months.

Tim was worried someone would catch on and figured they should attempt to hire a co-tailor. They attempted to reach out to fellow heros but no one their age was interested and they seemed rather put off by the idea of asking a adult.

Everyone was still tense from the last time Young Justice asked the Justice League for help.

Tim then decided to attempt to find a civilian who would help them with smaller pieces. Or maybe someone he could throw in front of a camera and pretend Conner or Cassie had taken a step back from modeling to help out with the orders.

His team allowed him to search for someone since they had no idea where to start. Tim scouted through all of Gotham, and ended up landing on Danny Fenton.

Babs had looked into Fenton's background as a favor to Tim and to satisfy her own curiosity. There wasn't much to the boy. Born and raised in a small town in Illinois, Fenton dropped out of high school to get his GED around his junior year. The notes on his file by his English teacher, principal, and school counselor indicated he was bullied out of school.

He passed the exam on the first try and, within a year, moved four states away to join Gotham School of Arts with a major in fashion. His parents were certified geniuses with a family company working in security and "ecto-entities." His sister was going to Gotham University for a physiology major.

The Fentons are a comfortable upper middle class family with no criminal history; the only blemish on their record is Jack Fenton's speeding tickets.

Fenton lived in the better parts of the city, paying his way through college and his own expenses by working as a remote tech support for various companies. It seemed he had inherited a knack for computers from his parents.

Barbara wasn't sure what about Fenton stuck out to Tim. The boy barely participated in public events when it came to his fashion. He only turned in assignments, and unless Tim made a habit of walking through the school of arts, he would have never seen his work.

"Wait, is he wearing-?" Conner whispered, squinting at Fenton, who was tapping away on his laptop. "He is! That's Flame-Flame battle pants!"

"No way." Bart gasps, standing on his toes to lean closer. "They look so good! Where did he get them?"

"He made them," Tim says with a certain lift to his voice that Babs recognizes easily. Aw, her little computer partner has a crush. "He makes all kind of fandom merch that can be worn out in public."

"Tim, we got get him on the team. Look at that Flame-Flames sweatshirt! I need it" Cassie hisses, rocking in place. She nearly causes Conner- who was leaning on her- to tumble over. "Go talk to him."

"I can't"

At that, Babs glances up. She's never heard Tim be nervous to speak to anyone before. Yet that's what she finds as the Young Justice team disappear aroudn the coner surrounding a red face Tim.

"What do you mean you can't? Why not?" Conner asks

"Look, I already tried to recruit him but messed up my pitch." As he admits, Tim kicks his feet, not bothering to look anyone in the eye. When he locked eyes with me, I choked on my spit midsentence."

Cassie slaps a hand over her mouth, but she is not fast enough to hide the snicker that slips through. The glare she gets from the only regular human could have sent her to her uncle Hades. "I'm sorry, you choked on your spit? Mr. CEO of WE? Mr. Suave? Mr. New Lover, every other Tuesday?"

"Shut up you don't get it! He was dressed in a really cool outfit of the Ninjas of Konoha, okay!? I wasn't prepared."

Barbara glances at Fenton as the team attempts to tease Tim. Rather loudly. It's like they forget they are in a really old building, so the acoustics pick up their voices really easily.

Based on his blushing face and hunched-over form, Fenton can obviously hear them. He keeps sending short glances to the shelf the other teens hide in. Fenton glances at his computer screen before rapidly fixing up his hair and straightening his clothes.

He fixes his scattered papers just as Tim rounds the corner of the bookshelves, looking rather nervous as he scoots to Fenton's desk. Babs watches the remaining young juice team whisper and shout encouragement as Tim stands next to Fenton.

Fenton's face, if possible, go even redder, and much to Babs' shock, he even starts to twirl the end of his ponytail around his figure as Tim starts talking.

This is cute. She thinks, aiming her camera phone at the pair. Taking three different shots, each displaying Tim's fumbling mess and Fenton's obvious interest, she quickly sends it to the bats with an evil smirk. And sort of pathetic.

She gets answers instantly, almost everyone teasing Tim or making "They grow up so fast" comments. The messages make a warm feeling of the family burn in her chest, reminding her of all that they argue about; the Bats truly care for one another.

It's Bruce's thoughts that shatters the chat with a simple text.

Why is Tim flirting with the Ghost King?

Babrbara stares at the words for a long moment before she types

Babs: What do you mean? Who's the Ghost King?

Bruce: That's the Ghost King or his human form. He rules the ghosts and our flip dimension. The Justice League Dark has him marked as a level 15 threat.

Damian: I beg your finest pardon? There are only five other beings on that threat level.

Bruce: Exactly. Tim knows not to speak to him.

Steph: Ugh Bruce none of ous knew that.

Bruce: He was in the yearly safety warning PowerPoint. You all said you reviewed it.

Jason: That thing is nine hours long! Of course, not all of us would actually look through it.

Bruce: I worked very hard on it. :'(

Duke: Guys? Shouldn't we worry about Tim? I mean is the Ghost King going to hurt him

Bruce: No, he's known to be very benevolent. Just as long as you don't accidently insult him.

"I'm not a whore!" The voice cuts through the air like a bullet. Barbara glances up just in time to see Tim backing up with a panicked expression as Fenton sneers.

He quickly gathers his things with a flick of his wrist, having all left in a bright green glow, and pushes by the shuttering vigilante. He stomps his way out of the library with an inhuman growl.

Tim throws his face into his hands with a wail of dispair. "I should have never listen to Dick's flirting advice!"

Barbara slaps a head over her forehead before texting the rest. So Tim may have called the King a whore.

Bruce: This is why I ask you to read my safety PowerPoint.

[luveline]

could i request spencer x bombshell!reader where maybe spencer and the team meet reader’s ex boyfriend / a guy she used to be interested in and he’s sooo different from spencer so he assumes her flirting is a joke but really she never had a type until she met spencer n now she’s only into nerdy, sweater-vest wearing sweethearts <3

love ur work sm i only read spencer fics but i read all your characters bc the writing is so intoxicating !!

thank you for your request angel! <3 1k, fem

Spencer looks adorable today. You’re not sure if he knows, but that can be easily rectified. 

“Spencer Reid,” you say sternly. 

He’s immediately wide-eyed and sorry. “What?” he asks, pouting. 

“You have some explaining to do.” You glare, taking your compact from your pocket. You open it, check your appearance, fighting a huge smile as you flick the mirror on him accusingly. “So, what do you have to say for yourself?” 

“I don’t get it.” His eyes jump between the mirror and you. “Sorry?” 

“You should be sorry. Do you see how nice you look today?” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean.”

You and Spencer have known each other for years now, and you love him. You’d die for him easily in the field, and out of it too, but you’re not together and he’s bad at accepting compliments, so he shrugs you off like you’re only teasing him. 

“My handsome partner,” you say. Even if he isn’t your boyfriend, that’s your loophole. You and Spencer get paired for everything these days, because you’re best friends and Hotch has given up on separating you (though professionally there’s no need). “I could eat you.” 

“Still mildly threatening, then,” a voice says. 

You spin in your chair, shocked and a little horrified to find the last person you wanted to see here in Connecticut. “Cory!” you say, knowing he’ll believe you’re enthusiasm if nobody else. 

“Hi, beautiful. You weren’t gonna call me?” 

Your lips pop as you reply, “I was definitely going to, just as soon as we weren’t on the clock. How are you?” you ask, standing to receive the hug you know he’s going to give. 

Cory is… well, he’s gorgeous, though that hadn’t been why you had fun with him when you were here last. He’d seemed nice enough and plainly interested in you at the time, and you’d been sort of lonely, so really he was a necessity of the soul rather than a want. Plus, he was very rich. 

Gorgeous he may be, but Spencer Reid he is not. You don’t deny it to yourself —the genius behind you has completely changed your type, the kind of man you vy after, and if you’re honest, he’s the one for you. So hugging Cory and pretending you’re going to call him for drinks after the case is over isn’t easy. You lie rather than reject him.

“He seemed nice,” Spencer says in the awkward silence Cory leaves behind. 

“Sure!” you say, blowing out a hot breath. “Was I embarrassing myself? I didn’t expect to see him.” 

“You were the same as usual.” 

You tilt your head back as the door opens again, worried it’ll be Cory back for a last word. Emily smiles at you knowingly, a bag of takeout in hand. “God, did you see that?” she asks, eyebrows rising. “He was perfect.” 

“If you like the Greek god motif,” you joke. 

Spencer’s frowning at his files when you turn back to him. “Spence, what’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Mm? Nothing.”

“You sure?” you ask. 

He maintains that he’s okay as the rest of the team flood in for lunch. You pretend to believe him, not sure what you’ve done to upset him but willing to figure it out. You unwrap his food for him and place his plastic cutlery on a napkin as you know he prefers, sorting through the cup drinks to find his diet lemonade. “Here, handsome,” you say, touching his shoulder gently as you sit down next to him. 

He bristles. 

“Spencer?” you ask. 

He looks around the table. Hotch and Rossi are talking about something with shared smiles, while JJ and Morgan debate the case. Emily’s on her phone with a straw between her lips. They aren’t listening, and so he says, “It’s not a fitting nickname.” 

“What, handsome? That’s not a nickname, it’s a pet name, and it’s true. You’re one of the most handsome guys I’ve ever seen,” —you laugh and grab his elbow when he shakes his head— “are you kidding? Spencer, you could be a model. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You have amazing cheekbones, just dreamy, and your lips–”

“Oh, god, please don’t start,” he says, covering his face with both hands. He sounds like he’s smiling. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Hotch shoots you a don’t tease look. You send him a vehement I’m not back, waiting for him to look away before you prod Spencer again. “You’re so cute, Spencer, you don’t get it.” 

“I don’t wanna be cute, cute isn’t your type–”

Your eyes flare. “What would you know about my type, Spencer? Is this– is this about Cory?” 

“Of course it is,” he says, face pink as he drops his hands. 

“Spencer, he is not my type.” 

“But you dated.”

“One date. And that was before I realised I liked dorks in sweater vests,” you say. You’re both acting like this is half a joke, a skit, in case you’re overheard, but you’re also both well aware that it’s serious and vulnerable and flustering to confess certain things right here and now. Too bad it has to be done. “I miss your glasses, babe, they really added to your charm.” 

Spencer shakes his head, picking up his styrofoam boxed lunch to ignore you. 

You sidle close to him, your pinky finger rubbing the slightest hint of his bare wrist. “Wanna get drinks with me tonight? I need a cover story in case Grecian Cory tracks me down. And, you know you get that really cute blush when you drink. What do you say?” 

“No,” he says with a smile, which means yes in this instance.

You kiss his cheek, giggling at the lipgloss left behind. “You’re my type, handsome.”

[hyperballart]

can’t stop thinking about art and patrick sharing a fleshlight

this is kinda like a continuation of this but i imagine them so horny for each other after they finally broke that “platonic” barrier. let’s say it’s been a couple weeks from the events that took place and you’re away to see family for a bit. ever since you mentioned wanting both of them fucking you at once in the same hole they haven’t stopped thinking about it. they can’t stop thinking about both of their cocks rubbing wetly against each other in your hand, how much tighter and hotter your cunt will welcome them. art dreams of it literally, waking up so hard he’s too dizzy to use his hand—opting for humping the mattress like a bitch in heat until he spills into yet another pair of briefs (his laundry trips were becoming more frequent). and well patrick, he has jacked off so much he feels his wrist will break soon, he wants more—needs more than his hand. so he goes to art’s room one night and proposes something.

this is still new to them, still so fresh and they’re learning to navigate this new dynamic but they can’t hide the longing glances at each other’s lips. what started off as a simple conversation rapidly escalated to patrick pouncing on art and licking into his mouth. they’re out of breath when the brunette separates and begins to rasp out, “i need to feel you against me like that again,” art’s eyes are blown out and he whines quietly, “need that needy cock humping me like it did that night—my hand isn’t cutting it anymore.” and art is a good friend, who is he to deny it?

after fishing themselves out of their shorts and jerking each other off for a bit, art pauses and looks up at his friend, “wait, i wanna do something different. wait here.” patrick sits up and waits for his friend to return with a fucking fleshlight of all things in his hand, taking a seat next to him they stare at the toy in awe for a few seconds,“maybe we can pretend it’s her, you know as practice so we don’t blow our loads the first ten seconds we’re in her.” patrick gulps and nods mindlessly, he doesn’t care as long ass he feels art dripping on him again.

they barely use spit, leaking so much it’s enoughto slide right in the toy. art holds it down on patrick at first, he’s mesmerized, “you’re—you’re stretching it out so m-much, fuck me”, patrick’s hips twitch and he whines out a curse. when art starts to slide in next to him he almost cries.

they’re stretching the silicone toy to its limits, they hold still for a minute or two just panting and looking at each other with half lidded eyes. the first movement is caused by an accidental twitch of art, but as soon as they feel that friction again they lose it. patrick moans out your name, “holy fuck man, you don’t even know—she’s got, fuck, she’s got the tightest little pussy, i don’t know how we’ll fit.” art starts mewling with his eyes closed, “i wanna fuck her so bad, want to fuck her with you so bad—hhghhh.”

they just spit out the first things that come to their minds, how they’ll shove their dicks down your mouth at the same time, how your tits look in that tight tank top you love to wear, the one time you bent over in the tennis court to retrieve something and flashed them your pink panties. what really gets both of them is something that surprisingly comes out of art’s mouth, “wanna—wanna take turns. i’ll fuck her on my lap and pass her to yours so you do the same, just using her to jerk off—oh fuck fuck fuck—“

patrick’s balls are drawing tight, he takes notice just now of how they’re bouncing right up against art’s. he can’t believe this, how much precum is dripping down the fleshlight and how hard they’re both starting to fuck up into it. art has a rule of never coming in his toys because they’re a hassle to clean but that all goes out the window when patrick starts to open his mouth again, “i can feel you artie, cum. cum on me i’m so close, fuck, do you hear how wet that fucking sounds?,” art’s eyes start crossing and he lets his friend be the one to move the fake pussy up and down, “we’re gonna come inside her just like this too, i’m gonna make you fucking eat it out of her right after—“ and art can’t make out anything after that. he cums so hard, harder than the last time if that was possible, and his whole body twitches. patrick finishes just at the same time, and when he pulls the toy back up he holds it over both cocks.

they watch the loads of cum spill out and drip down the lenght of them both, red and spent. they really hope you aren’t too upset about them playing without you, after all you taught them how to share <3

[valkyriexo]

Silence | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Boyfriend Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst , Smut

ᑉ³warnings; SMUT MDNI ,dirty talk, swearing, Fingering, oral f reciving, begging

ᑉ³Authors Note; 1k event Commisson giveaway winner @chrizzztopherbang (sorry it took so long :((( )

The restaurant was bustling, filled with the chatter of people enjoying their Friday night.

But at your table, a tense silence hung in the air.

Your parents sat across from you, glancing at the door every few minutes, waiting for the man they’d heard so much about. But as the minutes ticked by, Chan’s absence became glaring

Your stomach churned with anxiety, but you kept a smile on your face, holding onto the thin hope that maybe he was just running late. He had to be coming—this was the night you were finally introducing him to your parents, the people who mattered most to you.

Your phone sat face-up on the table, dark and motionless. No missed calls. No texts.

Not even a simple message to say he wasn’t coming.

You checked your phone again, the light of the screen glaringly bright in the dim restaurant. Nothing. He hadn’t reached out. No explanation. No apology. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on your face.

Your mom glanced at her watch, then back at you with a sympathetic smile. “Honey, maybe he got caught up in traffic or something. We can wait a bit longer.”

Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as forgiving. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his face a mask of thinly veiled frustration. “It’s been nearly an hour. If he can’t even make it to dinner with your parents, what does that say about him?”

You opened your mouth to defend him but stopped. You couldn’t deny that this wasn’t just an isolated event. Over the past few weeks, Chan had been slipping—forgetting dates, canceling plans last minute, or worse, just not showing up. But tonight, of all nights, was different. He knew how important this was to you. To both of you.

And he still wasn’t here.

It felt like a punch to the gut. You’d been nervous about tonight for weeks, planning every detail in your head. Your parents had flown in just for this. And Chan, the man you’d been dating for months, wasn’t even here

“Maybe something came up…” you offered weakly, though the words felt hollow, even to you.

Your dad sighed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, a man who cares about you doesn’t let ‘something’ come up on a night like this. He makes time.”

The words stung because deep down, you knew he was right. You’d been making excuses for Chan for weeks, convincing yourself that his work, his schedule, was just overwhelming, and that it wasn’t personal. But this? This felt personal.

Your mom reached across the table, squeezing your hand gently. “We don’t have to stay, you know. We can reschedule, or…”

The thought of leaving without even hearing from him made your stomach drop. You wanted to brush it off, pretend like it didn’t matter, but it did. You wanted your parents to see the man you loved, to understand why you were so devoted to him. But right now, even you were struggling to remember that reason.

The waiter approached, a polite smile on his face. “Are we ready to order, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

You hesitated, glancing at the empty seat beside you, before shaking your head. “No, I think we’re ready.”

The rest of dinner was strained, your parents trying to keep up light conversation, but the tension in the air was undeniable. Every few minutes, your eyes drifted to your phone, but it remained painfully silent.

No word from Chan. No explanation.

By the time you made it back home, the weight of the evening settled heavily on your shoulders. Your parents had been kind—understanding, even—but their disappointment lingered. You could feel it in the hug your mom gave you before she left, the look your dad gave you as he told you to "think about what you deserve."

And he was right. You deserved better than this.

When you finally walked into your apartment, the quiet was suffocating. You dropped your bag on the couch, sitting down with a heavy sigh, staring at the blank screen of your phone once more. A million thoughts raced through your head—maybe something had happened, maybe there was a reason he couldn’t make it, maybe—

Your phone lit up, and your heart leapt for a split second. But it wasn’t Chan. It was a notification from some random app, and the disappointment hit you like a wave.

You leaned back against the couch, the realization sinking in. He hadn’t forgotten tonight. He’d just… not shown up. And the worst part was, he hadn’t even bothered to tell you.

There was no last-minute excuse, no frantic apology, no explanation. He had simply left you waiting.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, staring at nothing, feeling the weight of it all. But eventually, the front door opened, and Chan walked in, looking exhausted but casual, as if it were any other night. He saw you on the couch and smiled, dropping his keys onto the table.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Long day at the studio,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t even look guilty.

You blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “Late? You didn’t even come.”

Chan frowned, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m here now.”

“You didn’t come to dinner,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “I waited for you. My parents waited for you.”

It was as if the weight of what you were saying finally hit him. His eyes widened, realization dawning. “Shit, wait—dinner. That was tonight?”

You stood up, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah, it was tonight. The dinner where you were supposed to meet my parents for the first time. The dinner we planned weeks ago. And you didn’t show up.”

His face paled, guilt creeping in, but it wasn’t enough. Not this time. You had waited, excused, and forgiven too many times before.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t mean to—” Chan started, but you cut him off.

“No, Chan. You didn’t even tell me you weren’t coming. You didn’t call, you didn’t text. You left me sitting there, waiting, with no idea where you were.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being the one who waits.”

Chan’s expression crumbled as he stepped forward, but you took a step back. “Please, I’ll make it right. I swear—”

But you’d heard it all before. And this time, it wasn’t enough.

The silence that followed your words was thick, suffocating. Chan stared at you, his face twisted in guilt, but it wasn’t enough this time. Nothing he could say would make up for the way you felt tonight—alone, forgotten, like an afterthought.

"I said I’m sorry, okay?" His voice was low, almost pleading. But the apology felt like it was more for his own peace of mind than for you.

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Sorry? That’s all you have to say? You didn’t even care enough to send me a text, Chan! You didn’t care enough to let me know you weren’t coming to meet my parents!"

“I do care—” he started, but you cut him off, voice trembling with the frustration and hurt you’d been bottling up for weeks.

“Do you? Do you really? Because it feels like I’m the only one putting any effort into this relationship!” The words spilled out before you could stop them, years of unsaid feelings finally surfacing. “I’ve been bending over backwards for you, making excuses for you, and for what? For you to just forget about me over and over again?”

Chan’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with anger, but he kept his voice calm. “It’s not like I’m doing this on purpose. I’m trying to juggle everything—the studio, the group, the deadlines—it’s not easy.”

“Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for that.” Your voice cracked, and you took a step toward him, fists clenched. “I’ve been patient. I’ve understood every time you’ve had to cancel plans, every time you’ve been late because of work. But this was important, Chan! You were supposed to meet my parents! You were supposed to be there for me for once!”

He flinched, as if your words physically hurt him, but he still tried to defend himself. “I know it was important, but I can’t always be everywhere at once. I’m doing my best, and sometimes things slip through the cracks.”

You stared at him, feeling a bitter mix of anger and heartbreak. “I shouldn’t have to feel like I’m slipping through the cracks in your life.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Chan’s face softened as he realized how deeply he had hurt you. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. You could see the guilt in his eyes, but it was too late. The damage was done.

You turned away from him, your arms wrapping around yourself, trying to hold in the tears that threatened to spill. “I need space, Chan. I need to think.”

“Wait,” he said, stepping forward, his voice desperate now. “Don’t shut me out. Please, we can talk about this.”

You shook your head, your voice cold and distant. “There’s nothing to talk about right now. I just… I need time.”

Without another word, you walked past him, retreating into your bedroom, leaving him standing alone in the living room, guilt and frustration etched across his face.

The next few days were a blur of silence. You avoided Chan’s calls, ignored his texts, and when you saw him, you barely acknowledged his presence. The silent treatment weighed heavily on both of you, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not yet. The sting of being let down, again and again, was too fresh.

At first, Chan tried to give you space, respecting your need for time to process. But as the days went on, he began to grow more desperate. The messages started coming more frequently—apologies, explanations, everything he could think of to get through to you. But you remained silent.

One night, you were sitting in your living room, laying on the couch and scrolling through your phone aimlessly, when you heard a knock at your door. You didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, but then the door opened slowly, and Chan stepped inside.

He looked exhausted, his usual confidence replaced by an unmistakable vulnerability. He stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before finally sitting down at the edge of your bed.

“I know you’re mad,” he started, his voice low and hesitant. “And you have every right to be.”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. But the tension in the room was thick, and you could feel him watching you, waiting for some kind of response.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I messed up. I know I did. And I can’t stand that I hurt you like this. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I don’t even know where to start anymore.”

Still, you said nothing, but your heart ached at the sadness in his voice. You wanted to forgive him, to let it go, but a part of you needed him to understand just how deeply his actions had hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you don’t matter. Because you do. You’re the most important person in my life, and I hate that I’ve made you feel otherwise.”

You glanced up at him, and the sight of him—his eyes red, his face etched with regret—made something inside you soften. But you weren’t ready to give in just yet.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” you said quietly, finally breaking your silence. “I can’t keep waiting for you to show up, wondering if I’m ever going to be enough to make you prioritize me.”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. “You are enough. You’re more than enough. I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I lost sight of what’s really important.”

He reached out, taking your hand gently, and for the first time in days, you didn’t pull away.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know I’ve been an idiot. I know I’ve let you down more times than I can count, but I’m begging you… please don’t give up on us.”

Tears stung your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression breaking down the last of your defenses. You could see how much he meant every word, how deeply he regretted the pain he’d caused you.

“I don’t want to give up on us either,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But something has to change, Chan. I need to know that I can rely on you, that I matter.”

“You do,” he said quickly, his grip on your hand tightening. “I swear, things will be different. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

Before you could respond, Chan sank to his knees in front of you, his eyes locked on yours. The raw vulnerability in his expression made your heart ache. “Please,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I’ve let you down. I know I’ve been a mess. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up on us. I need you. I’ll do anything to make this right. Just give me a chance.”

You stared at him, shocked by his sudden desperation. The image of him on his knees, pleading with you, was almost too much to bear. The hurt was still fresh, and though his words and actions were sincere, you struggled with the weight of what he’d done.

You looked down at Chan, kneeling before you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and desperation. His plea hung in the air, heavy with unspoken promises and fear. You could see how much he wanted to make things right, but the pain and disappointment you felt were still raw and unsettling.

“I don’t know, Chan,” you said finally, your voice wavering. “I want to believe that things will be different, but I’m not sure if I can just forgive and forget. You’ve let me down so many times. How can I be sure this time will be any different?”

Chan’s face fell, and he lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping. “I understand if you’re not ready to forgive me. I really do. But please, just give me a chance to prove it to you. I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry. I’ll work every day to show you that I’m worth your trust.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and earnest. You wanted to believe him, wanted to reach out and pull him up from his knees, but the scars of past disappointments were still fresh. You needed to see more than words. You needed to know that the change he promised was real and lasting.

Before you could voice your doubts, Chan moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze was disarming, and you felt your resolve waver as he closed the distance between you. He reached out gently, cupping your face with his hands, his touch warm and tender.

As he leaned in, his breath mingling with yours, you felt a surge of emotion that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, but the vulnerability and sincerity in his eyes made it hard to resist. When his lips brushed against yours, it was soft and hesitant, a plea for forgiveness more profound than words could convey.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with conflicting thoughts, but then you found yourself responding, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both passionate and desperate. The connection was electric, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it felt like the world outside ceased to exist.

Chan’s kiss deepened, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he seemed to pour all his remorse and longing into that single, heartfelt kiss. It was as if he was trying to erase the distance that had grown between you, to bridge the gap left by all the unfulfilled promises.

You leaned back, pulling him with you, your body arching into his touch as his hands trailed over your skin. The sensation was intoxicating, and you found yourself lost in the moment, all rational thought fading away. You needed this, needed him.

His hands continued to trail, and one made its way to your clothed heat.

Your breath hitched as you felt him rub you through the fabric, a delicious friction building.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I need you, Y/N," he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck.

The battle raged on around you. Your body ached for him, for his touch, his kisses. As his fingers slipped underneath your panties, the warmth of his skin against yours, you felt your resolve crumble.

You wanted him, needed him, despite all the hurt and disappointment he had caused. In that moment, none of it mattered. All you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

Chan's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped between your wet folds, the pressure of his thumb on your clit making your breath catch in your throat.

"God, Y/N, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice low and husky. " I missed this.."

As he continued his teasing, you could feel yourself giving in, the pleasure clouding your judgment. Your hips rocked against his hand, seeking more, and a moan escaped your lips as he slid a finger inside of you.

"You like that?" he whispered, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Yes," you breathed out, your voice shaky.

The feeling of his fingers inside you, curling up just the way you liked, was almost too much to bear. His palm pressed against your clit, the heat and pressure driving you wild, his other hand beginning to slip your clothes off.

Your mind raced, conflicting thoughts tugging at you. Part of you wanted to stop this, to keep your walls up and protect yourself. But another part of you needed this, needed him, more than anything.

"I want to taste you.... To apologize with my tounge in places my words couldnt reach," he whispered against your ear

Chan's voice was thick with desire, his eyes dark and hungry as he looked at you. Your mind was spinning, but all you could focus on was how good it felt.

As he sank to his deeper into his knees in front of you, his face inches from your heat, you knew there was no going back. His breath was hot against your skin as he leaned in, and the feeling of his tongue against your folds was enough to make you moan.

Chan was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place. The feeling of his lips and tongue on your most intimate parts was intoxicating, and you could feel the pleasure building inside of you, a delicious heat spreading through your body.

"Fuck, Y/N," he murmured, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so good."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a moan as he teased your entrance with his tongue.

"Channie..." you breathed out, your voice shaky.

You could feel the pressure building inside of you, your muscles tensing as his tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself losing control. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and you dug your fingers into his hair, holding him against you.

"Don't stop," you gasped, the words spilling from your lips without a thought.

You were teetering on the edge, your body aching for release but he wasnt gonna let it end there.

He was apologizing right?

You could feel it coming, the sweet relief just out of reach. You needed more, needed him deeper.

"Please," you moaned, the sound desperate and needy.

Chan responded immediately, his fingers pumping faster, his tongue swirling around your clit. He was relentless, his pace increasing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your muscles tightened, and the pressure inside you was almost too much to bear.

Then, suddenly, everything went white. You cried out, your body shuddering as the orgasm crashed through you. Your vision blurred, and all you could feel was the intense, pulsing pleasure coursing through your veins.

As you came down from the high, your breath ragged and your heart racing, you could feel the tension in the room.

But that wasnt the end for Chan

He continued to eat you out, wanting to give you another one.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally, but Chan's hands held you in place, his tongue tracing patterns across your clit. The sensations were too much, and you could feel yourself quickly building toward another release.

"C-Chan," you whimpered, your voice shaky.

"Let go, baby," he whispered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. "Come for me again."

As his fingers curled inside you, and as he found that perfect spot, you knew you were done for. Your muscles tensed, and the pressure inside you threatened to burst.

"P-Please" You say without thinking, the pleasure taking over any rational thoughts.

"Oh no, no... this is my apology to you, baby. Im going to make you cum until i'm forgiven"

And then, with one final, torturous swipe of his tongue, you were gone.

Over and Over and Over again, until you could no longer remember why you were even mad at him in the first place.

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[merchelsea]

i can take it — logan sargeant

pairing: logan sargeant x girlfriend!vowles!reader

summary: she finds out about what her father (her boyfriend’s team manager) has been doing to him.

author’s note: i know it has all been denied by logan himself but i wanted to do it anyways. DO NOT TAKE IT AS A FACT OR TRUE EVENT.

word count: 1k

warnings: idk if there's any cursing, not proofread, sad logan, kind of daddy issues (?)

masterlist | requests

you were at home, laying down on the couch watching a show while you waited for hunger. everything you had to do was already done and dinner was ready, but you weren’t hungry to eat it.

you were tired, tho. you could easily go to sleep right now, but you knew better than to go to sleep without eating first.

that was when your phone started to ring and your best friend’s name appeared on the screen.

you stopped the show and picked up the call, putting it on speaker.

“hi?” you stretched your body on the couch.

“hey, have you talked to logan recently?” she asked, going straight to the point.

you could notice in her voice some kind of worry.

“hm, yeah… why?”

“and your dad?” she asked again.

“what? no, not really.” you answered, not sure about what was going on.

“open up twitter, babe.” her voice sounded alarmed. “i think you might want to do this on your own, i’ll hang up now.”

you simply hummed a goodbye and started to see the panic on your twitter mentions.

everyone knew about you and logan by now, so you were not surprised with all the tags from his fans, but it seemed like they needed explanations on a certain allegation.

“what the fuck?” you screamed as you saw the caption of a podcast, your mind going red immediately.

it’s like you were only capable of feeling anger.

that’s when you threw the blanket you had over your body away and got up. not caring about your clothing, that was just a pj, you got to your keys and left the house.

getting in your car, you drove as fast as legally possible to get to your father’s office.

while driving, your mind recalled everything you had learned about your boyfriend’s situation in williams.

a friend of a friend of logan told on a podcast that your boyfriend wasn’t even having fun in the team anymore. that was happening because of your father. apparently, the older vowles wasn’t giving logan the feedback he needed anymore and they were not on speaking terms.

you know how you say good morning to everyone? yeah, not even that.

you were more than pissed about all of this. you could understand that your father no longer had faith in logan, you did not agree with him but you could comprehend. but not even speaking to him? this was another level of childishness.

you got to your dad’s office in a matter of minutes and immediately asked to talk to him. you were told to wait, but, impatiently, crossed the building until you reached his room on your own and didn’t even bother to knock before going in and slamming the door behind you.

“what the fuck is this about?” you threw your phone on his table, an article opened.

“what?” vowles asked, a puzzled expression on his face. he started to read and his expression went from confused to worried in mere seconds.

“you are using silence treatment on logan?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. he sighed as he supported his head with his hands. “you can not do this to a driver”

another sigh.

you wanted him to say it was all a misunderstanding, that maybe this person was wrong or even lying. but you were just hurt when he spoke again.

“oh… this.” he finally looked up at you. “what do you want me to do? pretend i’m proud of the american like i don’t regret having him in my team?” all you wanted to do in that moment was punch your father in the face. it was so not fair.

“you’re being childish.” you pointed out.

he angrily looked over at you, as if you were in the wrong. as if he was the one who had to explain how you were wrong and why.

“he’s not talented enough for f1, y/n.” you were already angry, but when you heard your own father talk about the man you loved that way you completely lost it.

you could not care less about how loud you were being. maybe it wasn’t the most mature thing to do, but calling your father and imbecile felt pretty damn good.

“how the fuck is he supposed to deliver good results when he doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on?” you asked, honestly waiting for an answer before you started speaking again because the man in front of you was speechless. “the car isn’t good and the team isn’t good. you’re ruining it even more. he is talented and you know that, you just want to blame him for YOUR OWN mistakes.”

everything you had been holding in for some time, just because he was your father, was finally out. it should feel better than it did. you should feel way better than you did.

“that’s not true. and you should be ashamed of your little boyfriend for spreading things like this around.”

you couldn’t comprehend where this attitude came from. i guess you could really see how money changed people.

this was not the man you looked up to. this was not the father you wanted to be like when you were younger. and you had no problem of saying to his face that he had failed as a father.

“if there’s anything i’m ashamed of, is being your daughter.” you heard him start to complain, but you're already out the door when a proper word came out of his mouth. you rushed outside, too tired to fake smiles to people around you.

you needed to find logan. that was the only thing in your head.

tears already filled your eyes when you started the car, and you couldn't see properly, because of them, the whole way.

but you never gave in, none of them fell from your eyes until you were at his door and he looked at you, worry stamped on his eyes.

"hey? baby?" his hands rushed to the side of your face to make you look at him.

you couldn't help but notice how selfless he was. that made your heart sink. the way he always worried about other people first, even when he is in the worst position possible.

"i hate you." you let out, in a cry, and let your arms circle his body, pulling him to yourself.

logan let go of your face to pull you inside, and closer to him. he was as confused as one could be. and the circumstances he was put in during the day did not help him.

"baby, please tell me what's going on." he asked once your grip over him loosened and he could look at your face again.

"my dad..." logan's heart skiped a beat. he knew the older vowles disliked him, but he never thought he could actually put himself between you and logan. he was desperate to know the rest now. "what he's doing to you, that's so not right. so not fair." you finished, and heard your boyfriend let out a relieved sigh.

he was actually happy that it was about the whole williams situation, and not your dad poisoning your mind.

"baby." the driver starts, but his face tells you he doesn't regret not telling you. that doesn't anger you, like you thought it would. it actually makes you fall in love with him a little more.

"you never said anything, you stupid american." he couldn't help a chuckle at the nickname and you punched him in the chest. he realized just how serious you were about this and guilt rose in his chest.

"i didn't want you to worry, y/n."

his blue eyes were a little darker because of the lighting but you could still see the pain in them.

formula one was his dream as a kid, as a teenager and as an adult. he fought like hell to get there, and even when things got tight, he never gave up. you knew all about the financial struggles that would've ended his dream if it wasn't for williams.

they noticed his talent and helped him get to better categories of the sport he loved so dearly. and the boy? he loved that team and was so thankfull for them that it actually hurt you. your father actually helped ruining his path at formula one and still, that boy stood loyal and helped the team and his teammate in everything. standing by their calls and decisions even when they jeopardized his races.

"logan, i should've known about this from the start." you knew you could've done something for him if you knew about the situation sooner. maybe if you had talked to your dad, bringing some sense into that old head of his. anything but let this circus keep going until it reached this point. "what they're doing to you... it's so unfair."

"but i can take it, love." he smiled softly at you and you almost felt the urge to punch him. how could he think so low of himself that he didn't see how much he didn't deserve that treatment.

"i know you can, the thing is you shouldn't have to. let alone go through it on your own." you said in a higher voice, capturing all his attention. "logan do you realize that you're not having fun racing? you said it yourself." tears were no longer falling out of your eyes, and the ones on your face were starting to disappear. "you have loved this sport ever since you were born, and they are ruining it for you."

"i know that." he almost screamed. he was quick to apologize with his eyes, but you couldn't care less about the tone he was using. you wanted him to be angry, you needed him to let everything out. "i hate it all, y/n. but it's my dream to be where i am today."

"i know, logan. and that's what makes me more upset. their ruining your dream and you're smiling through it, letting it happen."

"i'm not 'letting it happen'." he said, hesitating a little. "i'm just... maybe if i did things a little better, i would not be in this situation but i didn't. and i have to deal with it." your expression softened and you let out a sigh.

"it kills me that you think that this is your fault." he started tearing up and you pulled him to yourself. he hid his face in your neck and you gently stroked the back of his head. "it's not your fault, baby. you are doing amazing for someone with so many difficulties."

you took your time in each others arms, calming down while feeling the touch of the person you loved.

"i'm sorry that i never told you. but it's your dad and i needed you by my side." he pushed himself back to look you in the eye. "i don't know if i could do it without you."

you were still not over everything he had told you, and would definitely come back to the topic sooner, but right now what mattered most to you was that logan felt loved and appreciated.

he was already going through a lot, and it killed you to see the man you loved like that.

"you will never have to worry about that because i'm here, logan. and i love you, always."

with his face in your hands, you leaned closer and peck his lips. that's enough for him to remember everything he was fighting for. he had to fight for himself. and with you by his side, he believed it was possible.

"i love you too, always." he leaned his forhead against yours. "thank you."

[dreamescapeswriting]

A Place To belong ~ BC

⤜WORD COUNT: 1.3K

⤜PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: Comfort fic, chan being the overly cute comforting man that he is, trigger warning: mentions death of a loved one

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - July 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The sun was beating down on the back of your neck as you sat outside in the back garden of Chan's family home. It was hot, and not a normal kind of Australia hot, but abnormally skin-burning hot. You could have sworn you'd applied more layers of sun cream in one day than you had ever in your life. But you were powering through this for Chan.

It was the first time he'd been home in almost six months and he'd decided that he wanted to bring you with him. You'd met his family before, almost always over the phone but there had been a couple of trips where you'd joined Chan home and you loved this for him.

But you couldn't deny the fact that watching them interact together made your throat tighten and tears rush to your eyes. It had only been a few months since your mother's passing and you couldn't help but feel torn up whenever you saw a mother with their child. It was something that choked you up every time and often left you wondering when it was ever going to stop if it ever did. 

"I can't believe I finally have you home," Chan's mum beamed as you once again wrapped her arms around Chan, squeezing him as he rocked him side to side. Almost scared he'd disappear if she let him go for too long. Your throat tightened as you watched Chan's cheeks flame bright red as he let out a small groan, pretending to be annoyed with it.

"Yn," She whines, finally letting go of Chan and turning her sights on you. You slowly raised from the seat you'd been sat on and she instantly wrapped you in her arms in a tight embrace. One hand on the back of your head and the other around your back as she pressed you softly against her, swaying slightly. 

"Thanks for letting me come and stay, Mrs Bang." Your voice came out shakey, this was the first time in months you'd ever had a hug like this and you felt yourself tearing up. 

"I told you, you can call me mum," She whispered, rubbing your back softly as Chan watched you closely. His mother knew about everything and she'd insisted you come along to the family gathering so she could comfort you in any way that she could.

"We have everything here, okay? I have all of your favourites and we even made sure to get your favourite drink because I knew you'd want it," She continued to speak as you watched her in complete awe. No one had ever gone to so much effort for you before, besides Chan and your own mother of course and the thought of it made your stomach flutter.

"I'm so sorry about your mother, Yn," She whispered, her voice filled with genuine empathy as she talked quietly enough just for you to hear. 

"I can't imagine what you're going through. But please know, you'll always have a place with us. You're family now." She tells you as she runs her hand up and down your back. You blinked back tears, nodding against her shoulder as you sniffled a little. 

"Thank you," You managed to say, your voice choked with emotion as you did your best not to break down and cry in front of them all but Chan had already spotted you. 

"That means a lot to me." You finished and Jessica pulled back slightly, cupping your face in her hands, running her thumb under your eyes to remove the tears that had escaped. 

"You're a strong, wonderful girl, Yn. We're here for you, always. All of us," She whispered as you felt a wave of relief wash over you, acceptance and love from his family overwhelming you a little. Jessica smiled before walking back to Chan's dad, engulfing him in a hug as Chan came to stand by your side, kissing the top of your head softly.

"See? I told you they love you," Chan said sweetly, you nodded, your throat choked up from tears that were left unshed.

"Dig in, everyone!" She called out, giving you a final hug before going to find a seat at the picnic table in their garden. 

Food was spread out along the table and everyone had fallen into their own conversations as you watched everyone interact with one another. Your eyes wandered over to Chan and his mum as they laughed and teased one another. The sign of affection and the bond the two of them shared made your chest tighten with grief as you felt the overwhelming sense of absence wash over you.

"I'll be right back," You whispered to Chan, your voice wavering slightly as you headed toward the house, Chan watched you closely for a second but kept listening to his mother. 

As soon as you got inside you found the bathroom and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you took in a deep and shuddering breath. Everything you'd been holding in all day finally came crashing down on you like a ton of bricks, you sank to the floor, burying your face in your knees as the tears flowed freely. 

The pain of everything mingled with the overwhelming kindness you'd been getting from Chan's mum, everything felt like too much as you whimpered a little. You didn't think this would happen today, you thought everything was finally getting easier to manage.

The only thing interrupting your tears was a small knock on the bathroom door as it was slowly pushed open. Chan knew as soon as you'd gotten up from the table that something was wrong but he gave you a few minutes before coming to check on you.

"Sorry, I-I was coming back-" Chan didn't let you finish before he held you in his arms. Your eyes were red and puffy and he just wanted to hug you until you could calm yourself down again, he'd stay in this bathroom all week long if that was going to help.

"I'm sorry," You sobbed against his chest, fresh tears replacing the old ones as you cried against him, your knees feeling weak but he kept his arms around you. Keeping you in a tight comforting cocoon of his arms.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," He comforted, running his hand up and down your back as you calmed yourself down, laying your head on his chest as you let out a small sigh. 

"How are you feeling?" He whispers, it probably seemed like a dumb question given the circumstances but Chan wasn't going to let you go down there again until he knew you were ready and willing to go back down and face everyone again. 

"Calmer, I'm sorry I just sort of broke down." You sniffled as Chan took some tissues and wiped your face gently, 

"Don't be, I didn't think when I bought you here, I just wanted you to feel welcome," He hated that it had seemed like such a good idea in theory, his heart racing.

"We can go if you need if it's too much-" You placed your hand on his cheek and softly ran your thumb over his cheek.

"I do and I love it here, I just had a bit of a moment. It won't happen again." You promise him but he shakes his head, his hand placing over yours on his cheek as he smiles down at you,

"Don't be silly, you're allowed to have your moments, you're allowed to feel like this, Yn. Don't ever feel like you can't." He whispered as you relaxed a little, letting out a small sigh before smiling up at him, ready to go back down there and eat all of the food that you could manage. 

"I'm hungry," You giggle, as he pulls you into one last embrace, promising you that you weren't alone in any of this, heading back down to his family as his mum gestured for you to it beside her this time.

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[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 10- CEO!Miguel x New Hire!Reader

        Lyla let out a small huff as she sat beside Miguel, watching a group of new hires complete a written test. Her eyes observed each contestant, a frown forming on her face. Miguel noticed his secretary and scoffed slightly. In that instant, almost each person raised their heads to stare at Miguel. Lyla let out a heavy sigh before noticing you. You kept working, ignoring the thirsty women before you. A smile formed on Lyla's face,

"Perfect. Just what you need, someone to ignore you."

"That's not what they're supposed to do while you're on vacation."

"And have another incident? I don't want to deal with that again."

"Fair point."

--------------

        You were pleased to know that you got the job. Lyla had trained you well enough so that she could go on vacation with ease. It was currently her last day before she went to party, as she kept saying. You fixed the desk to your taste and noticed Lyla waving goodbye towards Miguel. They seemed pretty close for her to be sassy towards him.

"Alright, one last advice before I go." Lyla leaned in towards you, "Do not fuck your boss."

"H-Huh?!" You nearly choked on your water, growing flustered, "You mean Miguel? Why would I-"

"He's good looking and rich. Why do you think all of those girls got denied for the job? They were all drooling over him for just breathing. You've done well within this past month. I'm sure you can survive the next two months." She said with a grin.

"Understood."

        With a final wave, Lyla went to enjoy her vacation. You looked back at your desk and sighed softly. Miguel was good looking and you may have had a dirty thought or two, but to get a chance to have sex with him? Ha, only in movies. You had two months alone with Miguel. The only thing you were really worried about was doing a good job. You were his temporary secretary now.

------------------

        It has been a month since you have been working for Miguel. You were doing a good job and Miguel noticed. He could not keep his eyes off you. Every time you entered his office, he was so focused on your body. The way you did your hair, the clothes you wore and of course, the perfume you wore. Almost everything about you made Miguel's pants tight. Lyla was so worried about you wanting to fuck him that she forgot about Miguel's needs.

        Looking at his watch, Miguel let out a low grumble. He did not want to do another meeting. He needed some sexual relief. There was time. Undoing his pants, Miguel huffed lowly as he stroked his thick cock. Miguel just imaged you on your back, begging for his dick. He wanted to hear your moans. Miguel wanted to stuff you full of him. His pretty little secretary unable to work because he was pounding you. The thought made Miguel buckle his hips.

"Sir, just wanted to remind...you...of..."

        Your jaw dropped as you stood at Miguel's doorway dumbstruck. There was the CEO of this company, grunting as he masturbated, and there you were watching him. Miguel cussed lowly, immediately stopping. You were so focused on his breathing. The small sweat that rolled off his forehead along his with heavy pant. It made you wet. Realizing that you were staring for far too long, you gulped, closing the door behind you.

"Sorry! I can pretend I didn't see anything." You told him, hiding your blush. Miguel just observed you,

"Or you can help me," His eyes sparkled as your body flinched, "I can't go into the next meeting like this."

"T-This is unprofessional," You muttered as you approached his desk, "I was told to not fuck you."

"You're not. I'm fucking you."

        You squeaked as your body nearly turned to putty. He was a charmer, that and his dick was huge. Miguel grabbed you by the waist and sat you on his desk, his lips planting rough kisses on your neck. His hands pushed your skirt up, grinding his harden cock against your wet panties. You could feel his smirk as your body melted under his touch. You moaned as you tried to match his movements. Your underwear getting wetter, wanting him to enter you.

"¿Se siente bien querer que tu jefe te folle? Me aseguraré de programar esto antes de cada reunión. (Does it feel good wanting to be fucked by your boss? I'll make sure you schedule this before every meeting.)" He groaned, precum dripping from his tip.

"M-Miguel, w-wait-"

"I can't wait." He groaned, sliding your panties to the side, "Te voy a follar el coño tan bien que querrás ser mi pequeño accesorio para mi polla. (I'm going to fuck your pussy so good that you're going to want to be my little accessory for my cock.)"

        You moaned, buckling your hips as Miguel pushed his cock inside you. He wiped the tears from your eyes as he stretched your walls out. He was so thick. Moving your hips to try and adjust, you let out a whimper as he kept pushing. Your back laid against his desk with your legs spreading out wider. He was so deep inside you that it started to make your brain fuzzy. There was this throbbing feeling inside you as you kept squeezing his cock.

"Mierda, me estás apretando mucho la polla. Quieres mi semen, ¿no? Tu apretado coño quiere que lo arruine. (Shit, you're squeezing my cock so much. You want my cum don't you? Your tight pussy wants me to fuck it up.)"

        Miguel held your hips as he started to thrust into you. Your moans were loud as your squeezed his cock with every thrust. His tip hitting your cervix each time. Miguel pounded you hard and deep, wanting to hear your desperate and sexy moans. Your eyes nearly rolled back as Miguel destroyed your pussy. You arched your back, reaching your orgasm. Miguel smirked as you gushed over his cock, your juices causing a mess all over his desk. He pulled back and slammed inside you once more, giving you his hot load.

"Ah~ S-Sir," You whimpered lowly. Miguel's ears perked up,

"Say that again," He demanded, rubbing your clit as he slowly pulled out.

"S-Sir..." You repeated, your hips trying to bring him back in.

        Miguel groaned lowly as he thrusted inside you again. You cried out as you felt him harden again. Miguel raised your legs over his shoulders, thrusting you deeper than before. Your eyes widen as you cried out for him. Miguel enjoyed you calling him, 'sir'. It made things kinky. Opening your button up, Miguel forced your bra down. He swallowed your moans with a kiss while he roughly massaged your breasts. His cock bullying the depths of your pussy.

"Bebe cada gota que te doy. Sé una buena secretaria y toma todo lo que te doy. (Drink every drop I give you. Be a good secretary and take everything I give you.)"

        You curled your toes as you reached another orgasm. You were starting to feel cock drunk. All you wanted was Miguel to keep fucking you. Fuck his other meetings. This was amazing. Feeling his cock twitch inside you, you whimpered anticipating his cum. Drool was starting to roll down your lip as you arched your hips for Miguel. He hands returned to your waist, pounding you roughly another few times before giving you another load.

"Good girl," Miguel praised as he pulled out, "I'll be keeping these."

        You shivered as Miguel pulled out and took your underwear. Your breathing was heavy as you slowly tried to sit up. Miguel chuckled, watching a combination of your juices and his cum soak his desk. Your poor pussy throbbing for more. He licked his lips, wanting to hear you, but needed to get ready for his meeting. He lifted you up from his desk, fixing your shirt.

"We say nothing to Lyla, understood?" You leaned against him, your legs trembling,

"Yes, sir."

"Dios mío. (My God). Come back after my meeting. I'm going to want your bra next." He said with a smirk.

        You huffed your cheeks before agreeing. Barely making your way back to your desk, you stifled a moan as you sat down. You were defiantly not telling Lyla about this.

-------------

        You were moaning uncontrollably as Miguel pinned you against his desk, slamming his dick into your drenched pussy. His hand rested against your back as grunted, thrusting into you. He had ripped a few orgasms out of you and filled you up already. Cum was dripping out of your pussy with each thrust. Miguel could not stop. Your moans were keeping him going. Within the past month, he had fucked you almost every day after every other meeting. You were his.

"I'm baaaaa-Miguel! (Y/n)! I said not to fuck him!" Lyla yelled, covering her eyes. Miguel grunted, filling you up once more,

"Welcome back. (Y/N) is going to be working with us as a second secretary." He sighed softly, not pulling out of you, "(Y/N) did well, I'm the one who came onto her."

"I don't....I need another week."

"Granted."

        Once Lyla left, Miguel picked you up and sat you on his lap. You gave him an angry huff before grinding your hips against him. Your blissed out face was going to make Miguel cum again. He kissed you once more before holding your hips once more.

"What...ah...am I going to do...as a second secretary?" You asked. Miguel just chuckled,

"It's hard being a CEO. You're going to be my stress reliever."

"Mhpm, yes, sir." You moaned, leaning against him as you felt yourself about to orgasm. Miguel groaned before roughing his pace more,

"Fuck, again."

"Sir!"      

        You moaned loudly, shaking as you cam once more. Miguel followed suit, panting heavily as he filled you again. He fixed your clothes, looking at the time.

"Cancel my next meeting, I'm going to take you to get some clothes."

"Yes, sir."

[drabblesandsnippets]

Breathe

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “Really? Here?!” | [Someone Else’s House | Public Bathroom | Mile High Club] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (4k) During a wedding reception, Bucky and his fiancée sneak off to have some fun.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Established relationship. Fluff. Wedding talk? Vague alluding to Bucky’s trauma/past. Bucky’s a switch? Pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart). Oral (both receiving)/swallowing. Fingering.

---------------------------

Bucky always looks good to her - whether he’s in jeans and a henley or nothing at all - but there’s something about seeing him dressed to the nines. The fitted tux, the styled hair, the neatly trimmed beard. She rarely gets to see him dressed up like this and she can’t keep her eyes off him, watching him from the across the room while he talks to their friends.

She’s still not entirely sure why they got roped into making an appearance at this wedding reception - none of them know the couple - but she’s not exactly questioning it at this specific moment, no matter how uncomfortable she feels in such a formal setting.

And while Bucky might feel just as out of place here as she does, it’s making her think about their own upcoming wedding. Their plans don’t include anything nearly as fancy as this black-tie event, but as she watches him readjust his cuffs, she’s starting to reconsider. 

She can’t help imagining all the things she’s going to let this man to do her on their wedding night and her inappropriate thoughts only intensify as her eyes drift from Bucky’s fingers to his mouth, watching him take a sip of his drink. Then the tip of his tongue licks the remaining drop of liquid off his lips and she’s flooded by images of their morning shower, heat immediately pooling between her thighs, making her wish it was time to go.

It’s been like this the past few weeks since Bucky proposed - even before that really, but they’ve been insatiable lately. Unable to keep their hands off each other, finding every excuse to cancel plans and stay home. It’s where they should be tonight, but they couldn’t get out of this. 

Just as a flush creeps up her chest, Bucky meets her gaze, the grin on his face making her feel like she can read her mind. With a quick glance at their friends, he takes his leave, his eyes not leaving hers again as makes his way back to their table, the look on his face not making it easy for her to think pure thoughts. 

They’ve only been apart for a couple minutes, but Bucky never needs an excuse to return to her, the magnetic pull to be as close to her as possible constantly driving him. And, as much as he wants to take her home right now, he can’t deny how much he’s enjoyed getting to show her off tonight. 

She may not feel like it, but she belongs here, the numerous eyes on her throughout the evening proving she fits right in. Her satin gown showing off her endless curves, the fabric dipping low enough to show just a hint of cleavage. 

The angle at which Bucky approaches the table gives him more than just a hint though, her seated position causing her breasts to almost spill out of her dress, immediately drawing his attention. And then she smiles that smile at him. The one that reminds him how lucky he is. 

Since the moment he met her, she’s brought nothing but sunshine and beauty to his life. Even during times like this - when he’s so out of his element, having to pretend to celebrate the nuptials of two people he doesn’t care about - she makes it all bearable.

His tux might feel too restricting, the bow tie secured around his neck making him feel like he can’t draw a deep breath, but it’s okay as long as he’s with her. As long as he can continue to look at her, feel her, breathe her in, he’s sure he can make it through the evening.

Bucky ignores the urge to reach up to pull at what essentially feels like a leash around his neck, and keeps his focus on his beautiful fiancee, once again overcome with the familiar need to be as close to her as possible. With his flirtatious smile growing, he sets his glass down on the table and offers out his hand to ask her, “May I have this dance?”

She’s never been much for dancing, but she can never resist Bucky, especially when he’s like this. Tonight’s been hard for him, but he still goes out of his way to be romantic, to try to make the evening about them, wanting her to feel like she belongs here. 

They’ve barely stepped foot on the dance floor before they’re in each others arms, both of them visibly relaxing the moment their bodies are touching. They allow themselves to get lost in the intimate moment, ignoring any responsibility they feel to socialize with the guests. They’d much rather socialize with each other anyway. 

After a tender kiss to her forehead, Bucky murmurs, “Thank you for coming with me tonight,” She didn’t have to come and he’s planning to show her how grateful he is when they get home tonight.

Her eyelashes flutter as she soaks in his affection and she gives him a warm smile, blaming the romantic atmosphere for her sappy reply of, “I’m always happy to be your plus one.”

The sound of his soft laughter makes her heart skip a beat, and her own laughter joins his when he tells her, “Your signing up for forever sweetheart, I’m going to hold you to that.”

“You should,” she grins, giving him a soft kiss, pulling away before he can deepen it. With a deliberate wiggle of her left ring finger, she continues, “There’s no getting rid of me now.”

The playfulness of Bucky’s smile fades slightly and his eyes darken, the look on his face causing her breath to quicken. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He closes the distance this time, his hand moving to the back of her neck to keep her against him as he kisses her, his tongue seeking entrance to taste her.

Despite being surrounded by hundreds of guests, most of which they don’t know, she has no desire to pull away and she grants him access, her lips parting at the first touch of his tongue He has a way of making her feel like they’re the only two people that exist, and soon she doesn’t care about anything except the feel of him against her, her skin growing warmer as Bucky’s hand slides lower, ghosting over the curve of her ass.

He’s too aware of their surroundings though, and as much as he’s enjoying showing his gorgeous fiancée off, he wants nothing more than to take her home and do unspeakable things to her. The thought has him kissing a trail along her jaw to whisper in her ear, “Surely it’s almost time to go.”

With her hands holding onto his shoulders, she gives him a reluctant shake of her head and lets out a slow breath, “We still have an hour.” They can’t leave until the newlyweds do - Bucky and a few of the other Avengers having agreed to be here to send the couple off in flourish with the other guests.

It’s like a bucket of water is thrown on him, his happy thoughts of their future fading into the frustrating memory that they’re here on business. That somehow the new couple’s donation to the city gained them a right to him.

He didn’t have to do this, but he had no reason to say no, and everyone else had already agreed, given how generous the couple will continue to be to numerous charities. All it’s costing Bucky is his time. And a little bit of his sanity.

The suffocating feeling starts to return and his right hand moves off her hip to fidget with his bow tie, a soft grimace appearing on his face as if it’s physically hurting him. There’s a reason he avoids wearing ties, and the fact that it wasn’t optional tonight makes it even worse.

“Baby,” she says softly, interrupting his thoughts with a gentle touch of her hand to stop him from making the tie any more crooked than it already is. He meets her eyes and just a simple look communicates so much, a reminder of her how hard tonight has been for him. She whispers her own reminder to him, gently telling him, “breathe,” as she adjusts the bow.

Bucky knows she means well, and admittedly, just her presence makes it easier for him to simply exist, but he’s not sure he’s going to make it another hour. “Kinda hard to do that with this damn thing around my neck,” he tells her with a slight shake of his head, but his tone remains gentle, a hint of vulnerability seeping out.

There’s no point in suggesting they cut out early - Bucky’s a man of his word and will stay until the end - so instead, with a slight tilt of her head, she offers, “Why don’t we take a walk?” They can kill some time before he needs to join everyone else for their last interaction of the night.  “I’m sure you already know the layout of this place.” 

Bucky laughs softly, appreciating her attempt to keep things light, and nods his head. “Course I do. You think I’m gonna take my woman somewhere without knowing all the exits and places to hide?” There’s not a single part of this manor that’s not etched into his mind. 

With just a bit of encouragement from her to use that to his advantage, he takes her hand in his and leads her away from the dancefloor, ignoring the curious looks from their friends. Bucky could be leading her anywhere, and she’d blindly follow, her trust in him unyielding. He’s not sure he’ll ever feel deserving of it, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to prove that he does. 

It doesn’t take him long to find their destination, Bucky leading her down a deserted hallway, passing just a couple of doors before he locates the one he’s looking for. As expected, the room is unlocked and the moment they’re in the unused dressing suite, his hand immediately reaches for his bow tie, not even giving her a chance to offer to help him.

After closing and locking the door behind them, she turns around to find him pulling at the offending silk around his collar, his growl of frustration meeting her ears as he inevitably makes the knot tighter. With a gentle touch of her hand, she stills his movements, and softly tells him, “Let me.”

He gives her an appreciative smile and uses the opportunity to touch her again, his hands seeking out her warmth through her dress. He feels compelled to minimize this, or offer up an explanation, but words aren’t needed here. She understands his aversion to ties - his aversion to anything that feels like a restraint. 

Well, other than the occasional moments Bucky allows her to be in control of his body. He never thought it’d be something he’d enjoy, but he’s been seeking out more of those moments with her lately. Damn, he needs to get her home.

With just a gentle pull of the ends of his bow tie, the first knot is released and Bucky gives her a smile that never fails to make her weak in the knees. The corner of her mouth ticks up into a grin of her own, her gaze drifting from his eyes, to his mouth, then back down to the bow-tie to finish helping him.

After hooking her finger underneath the remaining knot a quick tug leaves Bucky feeling like he can finally draw a deep breath again. He still can’t help but reach up to undo the top two buttons of his shirt, not missing how the quick work of his fingers makes her thoughts obviously stray to the same place his keeps drifting to.

He can’t help but lean close, a knowing grin on his face, as he asks, “Whatcha thinkin’ about, doll?” 

Even with her skin flushing, she has no problem admitting exactly what’s going through her mind right now. Her body presses closer to his, her fingers holding onto the lapels of his tux, and she tells him, “How good your fingers felt inside me this morning.”

Her admission is expected, but it still makes him groan and he pulls her into a kiss, his hand moving to her throat, his possessive touch never failing to make her heart flutter. The feel of her pulse against his fingers has him deepening the kiss, the taste of her not helping to lessen Bucky’s desire for her, nor is it helping him catch his breath.

His need for her outweighs any silly need for air in his lungs though, and for a moment, he refuses to pull away, even as he has to resist the urge to take this further. To undress her and touch her everywhere, to listen to her moan for him. Despite the thought of wanting her naked here, in this ridiculously expensive, lavish room, he tells himself they shouldn’t.

She’s having similar thoughts, but she definitely thinks they should. In fact, she thinks it’s a great way to spend the next few minutes. She wants nothing more than to help Bucky get his mind off of everything that’s been bothering him tonight.

The breathless moan she makes when she pulls away has him immediately reconsidering, but his old-fashioned sensibilities are telling him he can’t let her do this. That he should wait until they’re in the safety of their own home. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice giving away how much it pains him to remind her, “the party.” 

“We have time,” she whispers back, her lashes fluttering at the tender caress of his thumb across her throat. “I just want to make you feel good.” 

Her warm breath against his lips, the promise of more, makes him dizzy with need, but he’s still struggling to shed this last bit of hesitation. He’s not worried about anyone interrupting them, he just needs to be sure she’s truly okay with this. Because as adventurous as their sex life is, this is still a first for them.

She can sense his hesitation, and she doesn’t want to push him if this isn’t something he wants, but she can practically hear the thoughts running through his mind, and she knows how to quiet them. With a quick flick of her tongue to wet her lips, she asks him, “It’s hot to imagine, isn’t it? Me on my knees for you right here, with hundreds of people just down the hall.”

Bucky’s breath catches at her words, his body ablaze with desire, but he quickly lets out a laugh as she reminds him again to breathe. He loves these moments with her, how intense and passionate they can get while never losing their ability to have fun with each other. It has all his reservations quickly leaving him, his body welcoming her hand moving between them to seek out his erection.

Since doing his best to shed his past of the Winter Soldier, Bucky’s become more comfortable with letting her take charge, and right now the need for her to take charge is overwhelming. All he can think about as she quickly unbuttons his pants is how she’s never steered him wrong, and with just a few steps backwards, she’s guiding him to sit on one of the oversized armchairs.

A slight lift of his hips has her working his pants down far enough to pull his cock free and she eagerly wraps her hand around him, settling between his spread thighs ready to worship him. As much she wants to take her time, this moment doesn’t allow for it, and she doesn’t want to give him a second to rethink his decision to allow her to take care of him. 

There’s no going back now. Bucky can’t imagine being anywhere else, and he can’t take his eyes off of her. She’s so breathtaking. Even when she brings her fingers to her mouth to gather saliva, all he can think about is how much she belongs here, surrounded by luxury and elegance. The sudden promising image of her on their wedding day has his cock twitching in her hand and it takes everything in him to keep his hands where they are, gripping the arms of the chair.

He wants to touch her, run his fingers through her hair, but she spent so long getting ready, just to keep him company tonight, and he refuses to risk messing up her hair or makeup. He continues watching her, letting her set the pace as she finally takes him into her mouth, the sudden wet heat surrounding him causing him to let out a breathless grunt of pleasure. “Fuck. I love you.”

She hums happily, glancing up to meet his gaze, the look on his face encouraging her to already take him deeper. She loves sucking his cock, the way he moans for her, the taste of him, the feel of him sliding into her throat. She’ll never get enough of it, and it’s not long before she speeds up her pace, desperate to feel him lose control.

Bucky’s lost in the pleasure, his hips occasionally lifting to meet her mouth, the knowledge of how much this is turning her on making it that much harder to focus. “God,” he breathes, his hands gripping the armchair harder, fingers digging into the upholstery. “Doll… Feel so good… Please…”

He can feel the vibrations of her moans each time his cock slides along her tongue and down her throat, and now he can smell her. It makes him want to taste her, to fuck her, to make her come with him. Just as he opens his mouth to tell her, the entire length of him is engulfed, her nose brushing against the soft curls at the base of his cock.

“Shit,” he gasps, his thighs tensing and his hand shoots out to grip her shoulder, the obscene noises of her throat gagging around his cock causing his balls to tighten. It’s more than enough to make him come, but he’s not ready yet. He wants more from her, and with a needy moan, he begs her to touch herself.

Without hesitation, her hand slides under the satin bunched around her knees, and she spreads her thighs wider as she slips the damp fabric of her panties aside, desperate to please him. The first pass of her fingers over her slick pussy makes her moan against him and both their hips start to move at the same time, Bucky fucking her mouth as she thrusts against her own hand.

He nearly loses it when she meets his gaze again, her lashes wet with tears, her mouth slick with saliva. He manages to hold back though, needing to watch her as she plays with herself, seeing the exact moment she fills herself with her fingers.

Her back arches and she nearly gags around his cock again, but she grips his cock with her left hand, stroking him in time with her mouth as she fucks herself, the heel of her hand pressed against her clit. She’s not even trying to make herself come, more focused on his pleasure, but she can feel the pressure building, her wetness coating her fingers.

Bucky’s senses are consumed by her, but it’s not enough, he wants to drown in her, to know nothing but the feel and smell and taste of her. “Please,” he says, his hand sliding along her shoulder, fingers caressing her skin. “Need… fuck… give me your fingers. Need to taste you.” 

She almost comes just from that alone, the walls of her pussy gripping her fingers, her wetness soaking her palm, but she’s eager to give him what he wants. The instant her hand moves from her underneath her dress, he’s grabbing her wrist, guiding her fingers to his hungry mouth.

With a loud groan, Bucky closes his lips close around her slick digits, the taste of her exploding on his tongue, causing his balls to tighten and pleasure to shoot down his spine. The slight tightening of his grip on her shoulder is the only warning he can give her as the tension builds to a breaking point.

He gasps and moans around her fingers, his tongue licking up every drop of her, the first wave hitting him with such intensity that his hips lift involuntarily. He watches her take all of him, her hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking him as he comes down her throat, the force of his orgasm nearly causing him to collapse.

She swallows every drop, her body buzzing with pleasure as she sucks him dry, not a care in the world that she didn’t get to come with him. She refuses to let him go, prolonging his pleasure, until he can’t take anymore and his body finally starts to relax,  her fingers slipping from his mouth.

Bucky doesn’t even give her a chance to catch her breath before he’s pulling her up, careful not to mess up her dress as he meets her in a kiss, the combined taste of them on their tongues making them both moan. There’s not a chance he’s letting her leave this with room without getting to taste more of her.

He casually pulls his pants back over his hips, happily listening to her explain that this was all about him. And, the moment she’s finished insisting she only wanted to help him relax, he’s just as happy to reject her premise, telling her, “Making you come on my mouth will definitely relax me.”

The laugh she gives him tells him everything he needs to know and it’s his turn to take the lead, guiding her to the armchair he was just occupying. Before he has her sit, he reaches under the slit in her dress to take hold of her panties, not wasting any time to slide them down her legs, kneeling in front of her in the process.

She’s not sure how much time they have left, but she can’t imagine it’s going to take her very long. Not with the taste of him still in her mouth, and the way he’s looking up at her right now. With minimal encouragement, she settles back in the chair, careful not to mess up her hair, grinning as Bucky takes the same amount of care with her dress.

After lifting the soft material to her waist, and guiding her legs back, he takes a moment to appreciate the view of her on display, ready for the taking. Later tonight, when he’s fucking her in their bed, he plans to tell her again and again how pretty she looked tonight, but the words won’t come right now. His mouth only wants to be doing one thing, and it’s not talking.

With one last glance up at her, her hands already gripping the arms of the chair in preparation, he closes the distance, the smell of her immediately overwhelming his senses. She barely hears his soft groan of pleasure, but it’s hard to miss the way he deeply inhales her scent, his hands immediately coming up to keep her spread open for him.

At Bucky’s instructions, she forces herself to stay still, his playful reminder for her to breathe the only reason she’s taking any air into her lungs at all. She watches as he takes his time, the flat of his tongue licking her from her dripping entrance to her swollen clit, the contact making her legs shake and her eyes roll back.

She’s so sensitive, just a few swipes of his tongue building her towards the edge, but he refuses to rush this, taking his time to the savor the taste of her, fucking her slowly with his tongue. And whenever she starts to move or forgets to stop breathing, he’s right there reminding her what he needs her to do. “Relax. Breathe.” 

He’s not going to let her get flushed and sweaty, not when he knows how much harder it’ll make the rest of the evening for her. That’s why he keeps her in place, the cool metal of his vibranium thumb pressed against her clit making her slick walls pulsate around his tongue, the delicious taste of her making him hard yet again.

She keeps her head lifted, even when her eyes flutter close, her body on fire as she takes slow, deep breaths. It’s becoming not enough and too much all at once, the familiar tingle signaling how close she is, but without being able to chase her pleasure, she can’t help but beg for more.

Bucky’s more than happy to oblige and licks back up to her clit, greedily closing his lips over it as he slips two fingers inside of her, his vibranium arm quick to hold her place. She reaches out, almost grabbing his head, but thinks better of it at the last second, not wanting to mess up his hair, her hands instead gipping his arm, her fingers soon interlocking with his as she takes in lungfuls of air.

It only takes a few strokes of his fingers for her to fall, the deep breathing making the orgasm even more intense, and with his lips suctioned around her clit, his tongue swirling around the swollen bud, her hand flies up to cover her own mouth, barely muffling her loud cries of pleasure as she comes for him.

Bucky’s fingers and mouth follow her body as each wave of pleasure washes over her, her thighs threatening to close around his head, but he welcomes the feeling, relishing the way she comes apart for him, her arousal soaking his hand and beard. 

He doesn’t stop until she grows too sensitive, easing his fingers out of her before giving her one last lick, able to feel the pulse of her aftershocks on his tongue. Careful not to touch her dress with his arousal-slicked fingers, he helps her sit up and kisses her softly, her body still trembling as she slowly comes back down.

Once it’s clear she can finally breathe again, and her heart’s not about to burst out of her chest, Bucky gives her a cheeky grin, telling her, “Now I’m ready to get back to the party.” 

---------------------------

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[dirtyvulture]

Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps. 

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right. 

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured. 

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt. 

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha. 

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

***********************************************************************

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone. 

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff 

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together. 

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed. 

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

***********************************************************************

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at. 

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.  

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone. 

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan. 

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

***********************************************************************

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate. 

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?” 

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count. 

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask. 

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing. 

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center. 

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.” 

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor. 

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down. 

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins. 

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor. 

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says. 

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines. 

“So impatient,” you tease. 

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card. 

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

***********************************************************************

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key. 

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver. 

***********************************************************************

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger. 

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her. 

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits. 

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Click here for Part 3!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[new-and-improved-st4r]

Hiii so I saw you write for demon slayer so I was wondering if you can make head canons for the hashira (separate) where they go to a pool because it’s hot and they have a really hard time trying to get reader into the pool so when reader is distracted they take the chance to get them in the pool.

(Btw you can make them get reader into a pool in different ways like tossing or throwing it doesn’t matter you can do that part yourself😁)

"𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒆"

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Hashira X Reader At A Pool

↳ Includes Tengen Uzui, Mitsuri Kanroji, Rengoku Kyojuro, Obanai Iguro, Shinobu Kocho, and Sanemi Shinazugawa

Warnings: Fluff!

Wordcount: 738

A/N: thank you for the request!! sorry I didn't include Giyuu, Gyomei, and Muichiro I just couldn't really see any of them doing this?? i also have NO IDEA how to write Gyomei....

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Tengen

The host so to speak….he set this all up, and packed everything you would ever need. Like a mother. 

All that to the side, he's actually pretty immature about this….he just wants to have fun. 

The moment he notices your not coming in the water (and it doesn’t take long), he’s asking questions. 

“Don’t worry, it's not that cold! You’ll like it!” he says with a silly grin on his face, his hand outstretched towards you. 

You deny of course, and go join Mitsuri and Sanemi in whatever conversation they were having, and you miss the mischievous grin forming on his face. 

He runs up behind you, picking you up by your waist. You're giggling and lightly kicking your feet, thinking he’s giving you a hug, until he's running towards the water, and the two of you are plummeting in. 

Mitsuri

Not a big fan of the water, or of swimming…prefers to tan and talk. But sometimes she likes a little dip. 

Of course, she wants you to come with her! It will be a lot more fun that way :) 

But you deny her polite request, and a small pout appears on her face. So, she quickly formulates a plan. 

“On second thought, I think I'll stay out here with you!” she giggles, grabbing your hand. 

The two of you go on a short walk, and little do you see, she's slowly moving closer and closer to the edge of the pool, before WOOSH! The two of you slip right in. 

Her head pops out of the water, and she giggles an apology. “Sorry! I slipped!”

Rengoku

The type of person to be very concerned about sunscreen. His brother burns easily so he has been concerned about it..now it's just a habit. 

Takes a giant dunk into the water, and comes up quickly, shaking his wet hair before slicking it back. 

“Please come in, Y/n! It's very nice!” he yells over to you with a smile as bright as the sun on his face. 

You give him a polite wave as you shake your head, and his smile only grows as he plans to get you in the water. 

After a bit, he comes out of the water, and offers to help you apply sunscreen. It's important after all, he doesn’t want you to burn! 

So he takes the bottle from your hand, and then picks you up bridal style. He drops you in, his body quickly coming after you. 

Obanai 

Not the type of person that jumps in. He gets cold really fast so he has to acclimatise. 

But that's a journey he wants to take with you. Insists you join him, and when you politely deny, you can tell he’s frowning under his mask. 

Formulates a plan with sanemi and tengen. They will distract you, and he will get you into the pool. 

So the three begin, tengen and sanemi poorly distracting you. It does the job however, and Obanai sneaks up behind you, picking you up, and lightly tossing you into the pool. 

Just as your head comes up, he's jumping in beside you, making sure to splash you. That's what you get for not accepting his initial invitation. 

Shinobu

Has a plan from the start. She figured you wouldn’t want to come in. 

She pretends she doesn’t want to either, and keeps you company for a fair bit of time. 

Giyu calls the two of you over to the water, something about needing to talk to you. 

Shinobu sneaks up beside you, lightly pressing on your shoulders. Firm enough that you lose your balance, and tumble in beside Giyu, a frown forming on his face.

Sanemi 

Very first person in the pool. But if anyone else splashes him when they jump in they will be starting a fight with him. The type of person to splash them until it stops being fun and starts to just be annoying. 

Invites you in after he’s had his fun. Less of an invite however, and more of a demand. 

“Hey. Y/n. get over here.” 

You shake your head, mouthing a “no thanks” to him, and he immediately frowns. 

Wait until you forget about him. Then he attacks and Sneaks out of the water. 

He's running you before you know it, and before you can dodge out of the way, his arms wrap around you and the two of you go splashing into the water together.

[avtrbee]

safe

✢ summary: just like everyone else, sometimes megumi just wants his mom.

✢ tags: mentions of the death of a pet, implied satoru x reader

✢ a/n: my friend has psychoanalyzed me with a diagnosis of mommy issues and i have always denied them. then i caught myself reflecting on what type of fanfics i write. especially this one.

Ever since Megumi had started school in Tokyo, he was barely home. Of course, he comes home every now and then, and living within the school's dormitories is part of the high school experience- hell, even you stayed in the school when you were a student- but the house is quiet without him, too quiet, which is probably why he does not go home as often as you'd like- that, among other things.

Everyone in your household knew that Tsumiki was what made your house into a home. Your girl always greeted you with a smile and volunteered to make hot meals for the family when you and Satoru didn't feel like cooking. She was warmth, she was energy, she was life. Until she wasn't.

The house became cold without its fire. You couldn't blame Megumi for wanting an escape from the halls that still echo her memory. Which was why you were surprised to see him sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his thighs, hands buried in his face.

"Megumi?" You call. "I didn't hear you come in."

His head lifts up and looks at you. "Liar," he accuses. "You can sense my cursed energy miles away. You knew I was coming home as soon as you felt it ."

His words were harsh but his tone was not off of his usual deadpan manner of speaking. You can't help but smile. He is still the same child who refused to sleep unless he clung to his divine dogs, Tsumiki, you, or Satoru (reluctantly, of course) in some way. He claimed it was for "warmth."

But he knows you as much as you know him. As he made his way to the house, you noticed something- his cursed energy was off. It was more powerful than usual. Of course, it could be a good thing- perhaps he was doing really well in school, but his downcast eyes and even broodier vibe are telling you otherwise. "What's wrong?"

Megumi leans back on the couch, sighs, and contemplates. He stares at your wall that is decorated with framed pictures and pictures you memories from his childhood. You've even framed pictures of his drawings- usually doodles of his shikigami.

He stands abruptly. "Never mind," he dismisses. "I don't wanna- I don't want to talk about it. It's childish and stupid-"

"Stupid enough to make you retreat back home?" You ask. You watch as your question sinks in through Megumi. Slowly, he sits back down. You sit on the other end of the couch.

"What's wrong, 'Gumi?" You ask again. "Tell me." I can fix it. Whatever it is, if I can fix it, I will shouts your inner thoughts.

"I lost one of them," Megumi whispers.

“Oh, Megumi, I-” you say, racking your brain for something to say. Deaths in the jujutsu world is so common that when you’re within the industry for too long you get used to it. “Losing a colleague- this won’t be the first time, baby. Nor will it be the last.”

“No,” Megumi groans out frustrated. There are tears streaming down his cheeks that he angrily wipes away. “My dogs. I lost one. I- Yuki died.”

Your heart breaks at Megumi’s childhood name for his white demon dog. “‘Gumi, I’m so sorry-”

You move to his side of the couch, wide arms open. Megumi falls in, just like he did when he was small. Megumi feels himself melt in your hold, his walls and defenses crumbling away like ash.

Megumi refuses to cry at all times but when you have his arms wrapped around him he finds himself not caring at all. It was like his heart recognized you too.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you pretend not to feel his tears.

You hold him until he lets you. Megumi is the one to pull away, and you never do. This boy js fickle with touch, and you always leave the duration of your hugs to his discretion.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping away the tear tracks. You’ve never seen Megumi this heartbroken before.

“I told him to scout the area and I just left him for a second- and he-” Megumi hiccups. “His head was on the wall. The curse threw his head so hard it made the pavement crack.”

You do not pretend to know his pain for you will never feel it. Megumi’s divine dogs were his first achievement. He smiled the first time he summoned them, even as Satoru threw him in the air in joy. Those dogs would trail after him in the house, obeying his command. You would turn a blind eye to the spare pieces of meat Megumi throws under the table just so they could taste cooked beef.

Megumi would refuse to let them go even when he slept, and was upset that they would disappear when he rested or lowered his guard. As a present, Satoru gifted him customized stuffed animals of the dogs that he never slept without. You were sure he packed those toys with him in the dorm.

When Tsumiki volunteers to run errands, Megumi would summon a dog and follow her. Just in case. They both always came back safe.

“He just did what I commanded, he was good, he was a good boy.” Megumi said, in a quieter voice.

“The best,” you agreed. “But didn’t Yuki merge with the other one? Isn’t that how your technique works when one of them dies?”

“It’s stupid-” A glare from you was all it took. “It’s not the same,” he admits. “I just want my dogs back.”

You give him a sad smile. You pull him close for another hug, and he melts in your arms once again but this time, he does not pull away. You hold him until his tears have dried, until his breaths slowed down, and until his eyes closed for a well deserved rest.

extra note: yuki apparently means snow in japanese. get it? snow=white demon dog (im not creative at all yall)

[flor4de4amor]

𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐮𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞!

you’re abby’s favorite bartender at her favorite dive bar. she doesn’t take to kindly to people disrespecting her best girl.

warnings: alcohol is mentioned + slight violence

click for palestine! read before engaging with my acc+work

Abby is a regular at your bar. Well, regular is a kind way to put it. At this point, she lives in the dive bar. She’s head over heels for you but has decided obnoxious flirting every happy hour, and a sliver of your attention will suffice. 

Her routine is simple:

Order a beer. From her favorite bartender of course. If anyone offers to serve her it’s deny, deny, deny. She can only accept alcoholic content from her best girl.

Shoot some darts, play some pool, chugging contest. Blah, blah, blah. It’s only fun if she sees you sneaking glances from your station, shooting you a wink while she engages with her team. She likes seeing how flustered she can get you with a thin-lipped smile and wink alone. And the answer is very flustered.

Once she’s seen you steal enough glances, it’s time to go back to the bar and bother you. Sure, order another drink. But, also, flirt with the gorgeous girl serving her. Is that a new shirt? Your hair looks so pretty tonight. She loves the necklace you’re wearing, situated real well between your tits. 

Then stay on the barstool, all night, up until she’s one of the last patrons in the bar. Even though,  she’s gotta be up running drills quite soon after your shift ends. But it’s worth it. If she can make you laugh at least once.

Every time. Without fail. That’s Abby’s routine, and tonight was no different. 

Well, except for the fact that there was some asshole bothering you while you worked. Doesn’t he know that’s her job? Only she can bother you, she’s the only one who does it right. Besides, you looked annoyed while he was talking to you. You never looked annoyed when Abby flirted. Always brushing your fingers on her bicep, giggling as she flexed, giving her a hard time for flinching after a shot. You relished in her attention even. You looked like you wanted to throw up while this guy was talking to you. Abby personally, wants to throw him a punch. Instead, she rolls her eyes and fiddles with the toothpick between her teeth, before calling you over to her. The night’s still early, maybe he’ll back off. She hasn't gotten her slice of your attention yet, so she refuses to let that be cut short. 

“Hey, princess!” She uses a hand motion towards you. Your face lights up as you walk towards her freckled face. You hadn't spoken many words to her all night. It was a relief to see the pilot in her designated stool. 

You throw your towel over your shoulder and place your hands on your hips. “How can I help you, Captain Anderson?” Your tongue pokes between your lips, a coy smile protruding.

Abby rolls her eyes. “I hate when you call me that.” She sighs playfully, “I only let my favorite bartenders call me Abby y’know.” 

You place your hand over your heart, flinching, “Silly me thinking I was the only one.” 

Abby whistles lowly at you. “None of them are half as pretty as you, baby.” She watches as you turn your head to the side shyly. She’s already got you flustered and the night’s just begun. She hasn’t even started throwing darts and flexing muscles with her squad yet.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes now. “Promise?” you flirt shamelessly, curious as to what she’ll say.

“Scout’s honor princess,” she kisses three of her fingers and holds them up.

You laugh at her actions. Only Abby can have you laughing at work. In a sticky bar, tight shirt, and light hangover still cascading over you. “Okay, Abby,” You say her name sickeningly sweet. She almost bends over to her knees. “What can I get you tonight?” She smiles, tapping the paper coaster on the countertop, pretending to think. “I’m gonna go with the usual tonight babe.”

You smile, “Boring but expected.” You go to grab a glass and fill it up with ice as a deep baritone fills your ears. “Princess,” the man calls. This new customer was evidently, not privy to the unspoken rules of the bar. He winks at Abby expecting some comradery from a nickname alone. As if friendships are built off disrespecting women. 

You cringe at the nickname and don’t reply. Your legs only move to that call when it’s your favorite captain calling you.

“Oh c’mon don’t be that way.” The man continues. “What? You want a different nickname?” Abby’s jaw is clenched so tightly, that she's sure her molars have cracked. She’s clenching her fist to the point that the white of her knuckles is apparent. 

“She doesn’t respond to that,” Abby replies to the asshole. “She’s got a name.” This man is new sure, but definitely an idiot. He’s choosing to continue squaring off with the Abby Anderson. You know better. You wouldn't disrespect her even with all the alcohol in the world flooding your system. You’ve seen her in a bar fight. She’s never lost.  

“What is this your girlfriend?” He laughs drunkenly. “I mean I’m into that sort of thing,” he snorts to himself. “Why don’t you give us all a little kiss?” He continues chuckling like he’s some world-class comedian. Though, Abby doesn’t seem to find him funny. 

She runs her hand over her face. She looks at you for a moment. “Princess,” she leans in whispering, “How many bar fights in me until you said I was banned?”

You lean closer to her, whispering back, “I don’t think I’m allowed to ban the champ.” Smiling cheekily at her. She winks and clicks her tongue. That’s all she needs as reassurance to kick this guy’s ass.

She gets up from the stool, walking closer to him. Though Abby oozes dominance, when she’s standing over you it’s hard not to shit your pants. She places her hands square atop this guy’s shoulders. “I’m gonna give you just one chance to apologize to my pretty girl or else you’re gonna be banned.” 

The man brandishes off a drunk grin that’s missing two front teeth. “Ban? Me? Ban me? Nah.”

Abby rolls her eyes, “So that’s a no?” She doesn’t even give the guy a chance to answer before punching him straight in the jaw. “See someone else has had the common sense to knock two teeth from that ugly mug of yours, what’s a few more?” She mutters to herself.  There’s slight commotion, but it dies down quickly with the rest of Abby’s aviator squad coming quickly behind her. Beers still in hand, foam coating a few mustaches they ask her what happened. She wrings out her hand, “Go take his picture for the wall of shame and dump him outside.” She huffs, watching her lieutenants follow her orders.

Abby comes to sit by you in her same old worn-down barstool. She smiles as you give her a bag of ice for her hand. “What number fight is that?” You ask her softly and playfully.

“For you or in this bar?” She’s got that look in her eye, nothing but trouble.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t answer a question with a question.” You being to make the drink you never got to give the dirty blonde.

“You’re bossy tonight,” she muses, accepting the drink once you hand it to her, chugging quickly. “Fighting makes me thirsty she muses.”

You repress a smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “So Captain,” you drag out the tightly slightly. Watching as Abby raises her eyebrow at you.

“Princess,” she replies with an edge to her voice. 

“When’re you gonna bite the bullet and ask me out? Hasn’t total endless flirting with me gotten boring?” You lean against the bar top, cleavage spilling from your low-cut top. 

“How about now?” Abby works hard to make sure her eyes don’t come to your spillage. She works overtime in doing so even. It’s torturous.

You hum, “Beating up drinkies doesn’t count as a date you know?” You smile at her, propping your face against your hand.

“Our first date wouldn’t be here,” she smiles toothily. “If that’s the case, we’ve had plenty of dates while I sat in this barstool. We’re married even.” She grins at you.

Your tongue licks your lips, “Moving fast, aren’t you? Focus on the first date, Anderson.”

“Yeah get used to saying that last name, ‘cause it’ll be yours,” she clicks her tongue and winks at you. “How about I come to grab you this weekend? A nice dinner, me you, and no drunks up your ass.” 

“Does this mean I’ll finally be seeing you out of that old navy uniform Anderson?” Your smile captivates your face as you tease her. Only you would make fun of her while she’s trying to ask you out.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t go home on the first date.” She teases, laughing softly, ‘cause it’s far from true.

“Liar,” you call her out on her shit, carefully grasping the glinting dog tags that lay around her neck. You pull her in for a kiss, for a moment there’s cheering. You know it’s from her rowdy lieutenants. You smile against her lips and pull away. “I’ll see you this weekend?” You say looking at her loved face.

“Sure thing princess.” She’s stunned. “You know what? Put a round on my tab, for celebration.” She reaffirms.

“No doubt captain,” you smile mocking a salute.

divider by @aqualogia

[lowkeyremi]

Back off my man osamu x fem!reader

notes: I was only gonna write for tsumu but like it's osamu's bday too and i love him. Basically some girl doesn't seem to get the hint so u have to assert ur dominance. the tsumu ver is here

Content: slight language, fluff, little bit suggestive (just a past sexual relationship samu had, established relationship

"Are you free tonight, Samu?" She asks him with a smile on her face.

He's told her millions of times about his girlfriend, which is you. This girl is persistent though, and has told him many times she'll treat him better than you ever could.

Which pisses you off because you've been his girl forever and you don't understand why this girl thinks she can just come in and take your spot.

"I've already told ya, I won't be free for ya, ever. What part of that do you not understand?" He asks, setting down a plate of your favorite onigiri for you. The workload has been crazy this past week and Osamu will always do anything to make you feel a little bit better. You do the same for him on days when the shop gets crazy.

"I just don't understand Samu! You used to have time for me during culinary school when we-" He cuts her off sharply.

"That was over six years ago, I don't understand why ya hang on so tightly to something that was never meant to be! We fucked a coupla times back then and that was it. I found the one for me, so please drop it." His jaw is clenched and you can tell he's very irritated by this woman.

His fist is also balled up on the counter. You try to soothe him by grabbing his hand and rubbing circles into it. He breathes softly trying to calm down.

You can't just sit here and watch this woman do this anymore. You've tried to be nice to her, but she makes it so hard.

"But-"

"Listen, if Osamu wanted you he would have chosen you. Osamu is a smart man and he knows what he wants." You're good at keeping your voice level when you feel anything but calm.

She glares at you, and Osamu doesn't even say anything. He's trying to calm down some.

The woman gets up from the high top stool and stomps out of the shop.

"M'sorry ya had to see that, she just wasn't getting the hint." He says removing his cap and running a hand through his rich dark brown hair.

"It's okay, you look hot when you're mad." Even though it was a crappy joke it still gets a little chuckle from your boyfriend.

"Gonna go tidy up, are you heading to the house or stayin' here?" His look definitely says he wants you to stay, who are you to deny?

"Well duh! Who's gonna be DJ?" Nothing could bring you more satisfaction than the way his smile drops at the mention of you playing your music.

"On second thought, maybe ya should go home. Had a long day right?" Osamu is stuck with you, he should know this already.

You pretend to think about it for a second. "Hmm I think I'll stay."

"Okay, but don't play any of yer shitty music or I'll kick ya out." The crazy thing is that he's one hundred percent serious. You and Osamu are complete opposites except for the fact that you two both love food.

Your music taste has never really been his favorite. The same is true for his music. You always cover your ears and pretend gag.

"Hey 'samu?" You ask voice suddenly dropping to a whisper.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" He returns.

"Do that more, okay? If anyone hits on you-"

"That was a one time thing cuz she kept asking over 'n over. Most people stop after the first time." Osamu disappears into the kitchen and you open your favorite music app to play your favorite artist.

"Womp womp, no more hot Osamu."

"The hell are ya talkin' about? 'M hot all the time." There's defensiveness in his voice like he was actually taking you seriously.

"I know, it was just a joke." You counter with a smirk.

"Ain't a funny one I can tell ya that." His large bulging arms cross and you can see his muscles flex.

"Go clean up! Stop looking like a thirst-trap all the damn time!" You whine in frustration. Osamu's deep laughter follows not too long after.

"Whatever ya say, sweetie."