#i would do it again and again and again . she was the best thing that ever happened to me

[zerokaram]

college basketball!abby x reader

synopsis: you're suddenly seeing abby, your best friend since your childhood, in a new lens. is it her arms? her strength? her drive? or the way she refuses to talk to, or even look at any other girl but you?

a/n: these are formatted like headcannons + scenarios to match them! not necessarily like a fic unfortunately. but if you guys would want that, i'd be glad to write something along those lines. enjoy!

at first, it was just something small. something so, so extremely small. maybe sometimes, she would look a little too good after practice. the way the wisps of her hair would stray out of her braid, her arms glistening in sweat and her shirt practically see-through from how hard she worked in the gym prior to her practice. or maybe it was the way she constantly towered over you, how she looked down at you when you two spoke, or how her arms carried everything and anything effortlessly, toned and muscular.

you don't know if you were just fucking imagining it or what, but holy, fucking, shit.

was it just your brain fucking with you? maybe you were just desperate or something?

you didn't know. but you were embarrassed to admit the fact that you were completely, and utterly infatuated with your 100% platonic best friend that you definitely should not be and definitely aren't swooning over. she was just a friend, and for gods sake, your best friend at that.

she just came home to your dorm, which she's been staying at for a few weeks now, covered in sweat. her arm and leg muscles practically bulging from her jersey, about to burst the fabric at their seams with only that and a compression shirt under it, paired with shorts that you've probably borrowed from her, her hair in a messy braid; stray strands sticking to her face.

anyone would be sensible enough to drool at this shit. it wasn't your fault that you had a hot best friend. right? i mean- what?

okay, but you couldn't help it that she had really nice arms. really defined, muscular, beefy, strong, capable, sporty, hot, sexy arms. it was just a general thing. it definitely couldn't just be you. this is totally fucking normal for a 100% platonic relationship. like, yeah. this is literally just normal. its literally just normal.

soon, your stares burned into her back. she could practically feel the way your eyes lingered from her face, trailing to her arms, and all the way down to her thighs. turning around to face you, she inquires cluelessly as if she didn't plan this whole scenario out on purpose. "baby, you okay? you look...dazed or something." she says, sneaking in a smile once she turns around again to get herself a glass of water.

baby. baby? did you hear that right?

you probably heard it wrong. you snicker, "oh, yeah. yeah i'm..fine."

one of abby's big games were coming up. only one more game, and it would mean that her and her team finally won the whole season. usually, she'd be pumped to finally get to train for the moment she's been dreaming of since the season started, but something's been conflicting her. a certain someone. she's had a crush on you for at least 5 years now, but the crush has been at it's all time high ever since you've started wearing her jerseys, her hoodies, and her clothes this past semester. god, fuck it. why not offer for you to do it again?

lounging on abby's couch in nothing but her hoodie and some boxers of hers that you found lying on your side of the bed from when you slept over, you held your phone in your right hand, scrolling through tiktok, while you held a cup of coffee in the other. abby (very willingly) agreed to let you sleep over at her place for as many nights as you wanted, since your roommates aggravatingly threw parties all day and night long.

you were interrupted by the door abruptly creaking open, abby stepping through the door, still in her basketball gear. she set her things down onto the kitchen counter, taking her hoodie off, revealing a more comfortable shirt under. she joins you on the couch; lying on her stomach, making a groaning noise. "shit..arms fuckin' hurt." she says, muffled whines getting silenced by the pillow she stuffed her head in.

you chuckle at her childishness. she's kinda always been like that, hasn't she? "too bad." you say, to which she frowns with a slight pout, looking up at you, wanting you to change your answer. you have no choice but to oblige. "-whatever. what can i do to help?" you ask in a playful tone, flashing her a smile.

she gets up from her position almost immediately, sprinting to her bedroom and grabbing her jersey before quickly running back to the living room and throwing the jersey in your face as if she planned this. "wear this to my next game." she says in a half-laughing, cocky way. you desperately pry the piece of fabric off of your face, trying to process what just happened. "no fuckin' way abs." you say, teasing her. you take a look at the shirt. it had 22 on the front, with ‘anderson’ printed on the back.

she frowns, sighing as she flops next to you, snaking her arms around you and stuffing her face in your shirt (in a definitely 100% platonic way). "c'mon." she says, "need someone to cheer f'me. js' wanna see my girl cheer for me. it would make me so happy."

you chuckle at 'my girl', "abs. this isn't helping with the rumors about us."

she accidentally blurts out, "don't fuckin' want it to."

...what?

before she knows it, and before you two could even talk about what she just said to you a few days before, it was finally game day. screams and cheers of girls who came just to see abby stretched from one part of the arena to another, echoing in your eardrums. you said you weren’t going to, but of course you wore her fucking jersey anyway.

abby looked into the crowd of people, searching for you desperately. she couldn’t play without you watching :’((.

about to give up on finding you, she feels two hands come around the side of her torso, hugging her from behind. she turns around to see you. wearing her jersey.

“you better win, i’m not parading your name on me for nothing.” you say sarcastically.

[anothermansjeans]

youtuber!reader does the orange peel trend with spencer

YESSSSS (he would excel)

cw: food mention, fluff fluff FLUFF, spencer is the standard for ALL MEN

wc: 351

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

You set up your phone behind your water bottle, camera facing front as Spencer was in front of you doing dishes. There had been a trend on TikTok and you wanted to see how Spencer would react. Watching the way some people’s boyfriends reacted to the “orange peel trend” was actually horrific. Some men just didn't get it. You had faith in Spencer though, and you'd quickly be proven right.

“Hey, Spence?”

“Yes?” He placed the last plate into the dishwasher before starting it up and leaning back against the sink.

“I’m craving fruit.”

“What kind?” His response was automatic, which caused you to smile, and with his words, he walked over to the fruit bowl on your opposite counter.

“An orange?” He gave a nod and grabbed the biggest one before walking over to you. “I actually don’t– wait what?” You watched as he pressed his thumb into the orange, peeling back the skin unprompted– unasked. “Spencer, no!”

He stopped in his tracks and looked up to your pouting face, “what? What happened? Did I do something wrong?”

“Yes! I mean, no, you didn't, ugh!” You turned your body in your high top chair to face the side he was walking towards, and reached over to grab his wrists (which were still holding the orange), pulling him between your legs. “I was supposed to give you hints that I didn't want to peel the orange so TikTok could see how long it would take.���

“But you never want to peel your oranges.” His brows were furrowed, and he had a point. He knows you better than you know yourself at this point.

Sighing again, you slumped your body forward, leaning your head against his chest, “you're right. You're always right, and I love you for it.”

You felt his chest reverberate with his laugh, and he kissed the top of your head. “Do you still want this orange?”

Sliding your head up, your chin was now resting on his chest. “Yes, please.” You both smiled at each other before sharing a kiss, and Spencer finished the peeling of your orange.

++

BONUS: some comments

@ user: THIS WAS SO CUTE WHAT

@ user1: WTF HE DIDNT EVEN NEED TO BE ASKED IM OVER IT

@ user2: how does it feel to win at life?

@ user3: spencer being the best boyfriend to ever exist… did you build him in a lab??

@ user4: you're living the life the one girl who’s boyfriend said “tough luck, buddy” to wishes she has 😭

@ user5: THAT SHOULD BE ME

@ user6: spencer passing the orange peel theory is the only thing that makes sense to me in life tbh

@ user7: this proves that if he wanted to, HE WOULD

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl @charismatic-writer @navs-bhat

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[adriennebarnes]

That’s That Me Espresso

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles and Y/N have been dating for a few weeks, they met after the Suzuka Grand Prix. Even though their relationship has been short lived, there’s something about her that has Charles down bad. They are living proof of how the boyfriend should always like the girlfriend more.

Warning: Grammatical and spelling errors

A/N: For those who voted for idea 2, about Charles being auctioned off for charity? Yeah, I'm not vibing with that idea anymore. But i am working on the fanfic where Charles thinks Y/N likes Lando.

Charles was never one to chase girls. Sure, in every relationship he was in, he was the best boyfriend he could be, he would be so devoted to them. But in his current relationship, he has never felt this way before. He was away for the Imola Grand prix and he couldn't sleep so he decided to call Y/N. After a few rings, she answered.

"Bueno?" Y/N asked sleepily.

"Hello, mon ange, did I wake you?" Charles asked.

"Sort of, is something wrong, Charlie?" Y/N asked.

"Oh nothing, I'm just having trouble sleeping without you here, you know?" Charles said.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to this Grand Prix, cariño, i just have a lot of in-person meetings. Plus, you've been to countless races before, you would think you'd be used to sleeping alone." Y/N said.

"Yes, but that was before i met you. Now when i'm in bed alone, it feels like I'm missing something.” Charles confessed.

“You’re so sweet. But seriously, muñeco, you have media day in the morning, and I can’t have you be sleepy during the interviews, Fred would kill you.” Y/N said.

“No he wouldn’t, I’m il predestinato, the prince of Ferrari.” Charles said.

“Muñeco.” Y/N warned.

“Alright Mon ange, I’ll go to sleep, but please FaceTime me before you go to work.” Charles said.

“Of course, Charlie. Te quiero mucho, Goodnight.” Y/N said.

“Yo también te quiero, Goodnight.” Charles tried his best to say in Spanish and he hung up.

The next morning, Y/N woke up, showered, did her after shower routine, got dressed and she was about to make breakfast when Charles decided to FaceTime her. She answered.

“Muñeco, how are you? Did you get some sleep?” Y/N asked.

“I did actually, it took a while though.” Charles said.

“Well when you’re back in Monaco, I’ll be sleeping by your side.” Y/N said, she set her phone against something in the kitchen so she can make pancakes.

“Sounds perfect, I’ll be counting down the days.” Charles said.

“You think you’ll make podium?” Y/N asked.

“I’ll dedicate my podium to you, Mon ange.” Charles said. They kept talking while Y/N made her breakfast, Charles also took his phone with him to eat when his room service came so they had breakfast together,

“Charlie, baby, i need to go to work, okay, I’ll talk to you soon, te quiero.” Y/N said.

“Yo más.” Charles replied and hung up the call. There was a knock on his hotel room door and he opened it to see Carlos. “Good morning, Carlos.”

“Morning. Were you talking with Y/N?” Carlos asked

“Yes i was.” Charles replied smiling.

“Ay, I should have known, she has you completely smitten.” Carlos says.

“I know, mate, there’s just something about her.” Charles said, sighing like a person in love.

“You are whipped, it’s entertaining to see you like that. We need to head to paddock now for the interviews.” Carlos said before him and Charles left the hotel room.

Meanwhile, Y/N was finishing up her third meeting of the day when she got w FaceTime call from Y/N so she excused herself.

“Charlie querido, what is it? I’m technically still in a meeting.” Y/N said.

“Sorry Mon ange, I just wanted to see how you are, I am on break right now and then I have more interviews before the race,” Charles said.

“I’m fine, just a little tired, I call you later tonight okay? Then you can tell me all about your day. Te quiero.” Y/N said, blowing him a kiss.

“Yo más” Charles said, doing the same thing before hanging up. Y/N was about to enter the conference room again but she was stopped by her assistant.

“You got that man wrapped around your finger.” Monica commented,

“Well i wouldn’t necessarily say that I have him wrapped around my finger. Pero es si, lo tengo mal (But Yeah, i got him down bad).” Y/N said.

“How? Like what’s your secret?” Monica asked.

“There’s no secret, it’s just that me espresso.” Y/N said.

“Ha ha, no go, you have a meeting to run.” Monica said. Y/N entered the conference room to continue the meeting.

Her workday was done and she got a text from Charles and it was a link to one of his interviews. She clicked on it and she was watching it but there was a question that Charles answered that surprised her.

“Charles Leclerc, what is your favorite saying?” The interviewer asked.

“I Don’t know if it’s a popular saying or an actual saying in general, but my girlfriend says ‘that’s that me espresso’. When she was younger, her mom would say she was like a shot so espresso because of how hyper and energetic she was as a child, basically bouncing off the walls. So now when I ask her a question about anything she does, she’ll say that’s that me espresso or it’s just that me espresso, meaning that’s just how she is. How do I get crying babies to stop? That’s that me espresso, I have no idea but I guess I just have a calming presence.” Charles said laughing. Y/N stopped the video and FaceTimed Charles,

“Hey Muñeco.” Y/N said.

“Hello, ma Belle, did you see that interview?” Charles asked.

“I did, you used my phrase.” Y/N said.

“Of course I did, it’s my favorite saying in the world, it perfectly describes you. You are a shot of espresso, a moment with you has me smiling for hours, I can’t get enough of you.” Charles said,

“Eres tan cursi (you are so cheesy) but i love that about you.” Y/N said.

They continued talking until it was time for bed.

Race Weekend was done and Y/N can continue working from her home office, she didn’t didn’t have any meetings to attend to in person, she was free. She was finishing up some files when the doorbell rang. Y/N got up and answered the door and she saw a huge bouquet of her favorite flowers (mine are peonies because of Blair Waldorf).

“Whats this?” Y/N asked and the bouquet of flowers were lowered to reveal a smiling Charles Leclerc. “Muñeco!”

“Mon ange!” Charles exclaimed, they entered her apartment and they hugged as soon as charles put the bouquet on the kitchen counter, he spun her around and out her back on the ground to leave her kisses all over her face. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow, did you come here straight from the airport?” Y/N asked, taking in Charles’s hoodie and baggy jeans,

“Yes I did. I stopped by the florist first, obviously.” Charles said, gesturing to the bouquet,

“They’re beautiful.” Y/N said. “What brings you here?”

“Because I wanted to tell you up something important. I know we haven’t been dating for a long time but I have never felt this strongly about someone, I love you, te amo, estoy enamorado de ti (i am in love with you).” Charles said. Y/N starts tearing up,

“Ay muñeco, yo también te amo.” Y/N said, hugging him. “Je suis amoureux de toi.” Now it was Charles’s turn to tear up, she just told him she was in love with him too. They kissed.

“I fall in love with you more and more each day, I can’t get enough of you, how do you do that?” Charles asked, brushing Y/N’s hair back. Y/N just shrugged.

“That’s that me espresso.” Y/N said and both of them laughed, Charles pulled Y/N onto the couch and started talking about where to go out today,

The End

I had no idea where I was going with this short imagine but I hope y’all like it!

[bi-writes]

If you have time I am kindly asking for Simon and the teams POV on the arranged marriage fic!! Like why they put that ad out! I also think they’re silly for doing the whole ceremony in their gear 👉👈

the arrangement prequel

it wasn't much of a choice. ghost knew this was coming, knew this might happen--disciplinary action from the increasingly...unorthodox ways he was coming back from an op.

one too many times, a capture or kill became looking for the pieces of their target scattered across the field. an accident on the way back to interrogation--he doesn't know how his blade ended up embedded in their mark's throat. he misfired his gun--it's too bad it went straight through that prisoner's forehead.

disobeying without saying no. taking matters into his own hands without exactly defying the rules. ghost had been walking along the boundary line for a long while, and he knew eventually someone would realize the risks he was taking.

it was kate's idea. ghost needed something to chew on, something to satiate the hunger in his bones. a companionship, is what she tells price, but even he knew that was a stretch. anything given to ghost would surely be shredded apart on impact. anything that belongs to him ends up tucked underneath layers of shadows, not to be seen again.

but ghost is the best at what he does. all kate needs is for him to fucking listen once in a while.

when they ride back in the humvee, ghost is fiddling with the chamber of his pistol when price speaks up.

"got somethin' new," he says, looking into the rearview mirror. the sergeants shuffle a little closer to hear him. "new program between CIA and SAS. pilot program, not...exactly routine. but they'd like one of you lot to be the first to participate."

"what is it?"

price clears his throat, "the legality is a grey area. but both parties need to be willing."

"spit it out, cap'n."

"an arrangement of sorts," he says finally. "it's...not a secret 's hard to keep a bird with the things we do...always away, hard to reach. but you're the best at what you do, and i think if you take it seriously, it could be good for one of ya."

soap snorts. "cap'n, ye wanna play matchmaker with us? see if we're worthy of little bonnie spies?"

price snorts, rolling his eyes, "i need you to set an example, is what i need. i need one of you to step forward."

ghost looks up when he says that. his eyes flicker, and he looks at his captain, who keeps his eyes on the road as he drives. he hears what price doesn't say. this is your punishment, he imagines. and you will take it and not say a word, like the lieutenant that you are.

in the dark of his room later that evening, he opens the file with your name typed across the front. CONFIDENTIAL it reads, and he flips the manila folder to spread your profile out onto the desk.

you're smiling in the first photo. it's a headshot, from high school maybe, from college, a pretty photo of you beaming at a camera with a nice background. he eyes your height, weight, measurements, the skills they've identified and the answers to your questions about why you want to participate in the program.

Q: What kind of partner are you looking for? A: Resistant. Unmovable. Loyal.

Q: Why do you want to participate in this program? A: I'm tired of being disappointed.

Q: What are some of the qualities you possess you would like your partner to know about you? A: I'm not afraid of what I don't know.

short answers, straight to the point. affirmative and honest, with no room for interpretation. ghost doesn't need interpretation; he knows what it is you're saying.

when he looks back at your picture, he brings it closer, narrowing his eyes as he studies you. the smile you wear, while beautiful, isn't real. it's a persona, a ruse, a costume that you wear to put the outside world at ease. you understand that a smile makes you agreeable, but he knows, somehow he knows, that there must be a tick that you feel that no one is able to quiet, an anger and a lilt to the soft voice you must speak in that carries the weight of your defiance and your disappointment with everything the world is that you thought it wouldn't be.

ghost isn't told that the program is a lie. you aren't an operative for the CIA, you aren't some kind of spy in need of company. when he reads the rest of your file, he is amused because he knows the rest is made-up bullshit that doesn't apply to you. you are as civilian as they come, but with how well you lie, he wonders if you should be recruited just for that.

with just a little training, he thinks perhaps you might be everything your country needs and more. a little blood wouldn't scare you.

it's weeks later when ghost eyes the date on his calendar. he has marked it with an X, black marker haphazardly traced there to indicate the day. he told price he doesn't want bells and whistles--no music, no men, no party. an unmarked room and his bride is all that is necessary.

he steps outside to smoke a cigarette. he sucks on it gently, blowing it out to the side, and he eyes the car that pulls onto base carefully. when price steps out of the drivers' seat, ghost stubs out the cigarette and turns the corner. he catches a glimpse of a lace veil before he disappears.

and when he steps into the room hours later, your back to him, he can't help the way his pupils dilate and the way his body goes rigid with rage. there you are, standing there, in white silk and lace, your back to him but the picture of elegance and the presence of something honestly deserving.

it is only when he lifts the veil off of your face and sees those eyes that he understands what you are, what you wear.

a façade, a beautiful mask of your own, to cover up the ugly you hold on the inside.

he smiles under the mask when you kiss him over the fabric. because fuck, yes...he doesn't care where you have come from. he doesn't care that they lied about who you are, that they didn't tell him the truth, that in all honesty, they have given you to die and you don't know it--he doesn't care because it worked, at least for him. the finest flesh he has ever set his eyes on. he cannot wait to brand you for what you are worth.

if they meant to punish him for the crimes he has committed, he is sorry. because you are his reward, and there is no hell to pay.

[adventuringblind]

The Thrill of It (1.8K Words)

LandOscar x Reader

Genre: Street Racer AU, Smut

Summary: Sometimes the boys come back from races a little riled up, it doesn't help tonight that they get a bit possessive when someone lays a hand on what's theirs.

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, public sex, exhibitionist Lando, Sub reader, Dom Oscar, Oral, face-fucking, Hair pulling (?), minor degradation, Oscar being stressed after because AFTERCARE IS IMPORTANT OKAY

Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I think this is the most lewd smut I've ever done... But reminder that comments and filling my inbox with nice things motivates me to write!!

Side Note: MINORS AVERT YOUR EYES!! ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The lights amongst the crowd flitted about in shades of neon. The people are rowdy tonight on the sides of the street. All of them handing off their cash to each other to bet on which driver they think will win. 

It’s a dangerous game with no medic on scene. She supposes that’s the thrill of it. Knowing there may be no return once they put their foot on the pedal.

Lando and Oscar are practically swimming in the cash now. While she isn’t in the spotlight, they certainly are. These are their streets. They know Woking like the back of their hands now. 

Lando says he drives by feeling where Oscar has a map of the turns memorized. It speaks volumes about their character.  

You’d think these idiots would stop betting so much on other drivers. She’s been here enough times to know they never learn. Always lured into a false sense of hope. She doesn’t mind it, simply finds it funny. 

She finds herself entranced by the sounds of the engines, the people chanting their names. She sees other people oggle the two, hands becoming a bit more than friendly as the night progresses and alcohol is consumed.

A car pulls below her hiding spot. The second car driven, a truck she can sit in the bed of when things get overwhelming and the people too much. 

Those friendly hands tend to slip when they see a pretty stranger. Boundary lines are crossed. Another thing they should know by now: Oscar and Lando are the kings of these streets and it’s best not to mess with their queen. 

The bed of the truck shakes as they climb in with her. Their faces are half hidden in the dark. The other is illuminated by intermittent flashing lights. 

 Lando looks all too happy about the stunt he just pulled. A dangerous thing that could have killed him if not done right. The adrenaline has his pupils dilated. “Don’t think he’ll be coming back again. Gave him a run for his money… Liturgy!” 

“Literally-” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant - Literally!” 

She tilts her head back and laughs. Drunk off the atmosphere of the night and maybe the fumes of whatever people have been smoking all night. “Scared him off then?” 

“You know it baby!” Lando latches right onto her exposed neck with his teeth for all of two seconds before Oscar is dragging him off. It leaves them both whining. “Osc! I’m doing things!” 

“You’re doing our things.” The dehumanizing language should not have her this hot and bothered, in Woking, in October. She’s wearing a skirt with nothing aside from panties underneath and one of Oscar’s zip-ups with a tank top. Not the best choice of clothing all things considered, but she could care less. Not when it gives them easy access when they are all riled up like this.

Oscar drags her into his lap. The feeling of strong thighs underneath her in almost the right spot has her whimpering. “Didn’t realize you’re already so needy for us darling. Forgot how much seeing us drive turns you on.” 

She nearly cries when Oscar pulls her underwear to the side and slips a finger through her slit. “Look at this Lan! She’s a mess already!” Oscar’s free hand grips Lando by the collar and pulls him closer; nearly choking him out in the process. When his fingers are pulling obscene sounds from her, he brings them away. Up towards Lando’s mouth which unlatches to suck on them eagerly. 

The Brits eyes roll back as Oscar jams four fingers down the back of his throat just for the sake of it. “S’pose you’ve earned it tonight, Lan. You’re already a mess anyhow and I think you’ve been leaking since you got out of the car.” 

Lando mumbles something around Oscar’s fingers. It’s unintelligible - or she’s too lost in her haze to comprehend anything. Having slotted down on Oscar’s thigh to get some kind of friction. 

The sound of Lando’s belt buckle coming undone becomes louder than the engines. Then the wet sound of lips clashing together. The hand Oscar previously had in Lando’s mouth is now around his neck. 

The same story time and time again. Lando goes by feel where Oscar exudes superiority in how he has them memorized. 

She clocks the hand on her waist moving to the back of her head. Oscar switches to kiss her instead. The filthy kind - all tongue and teeth. It keeps her occupied long enough for Lando to shimmy his boxers just far enough down. 

“I knew you were leaking.” Lando makes a weak noise at that. Oscar’s words seem to have that effect on him. Both of them - really. “I bet you like showing off for all these people, huh? The possibility of us being caught like this. You get off on the thrill.”

The boys help her reposition her boy. Oscar gets two of his fingers in her, hovering just above Lando’s cock. Which - to Oscar’s credit - He’s not wrong. Lando is leaking like a faucet that has a consistent drip. It is mesmerizing and should be illegal. 

Oscar gets a third in her, dutifully stretching her open despite having to support her weight. Lando thrusts into the air out of impatience which earns a lovely smack to the side of his ass. “You should know better, Love, that all good things come with time.”

She feels empty for all of two seconds before her body is plunging down onto Lando’s cock. She can feel him twitching behind her - trying to remain still until given the go-ahead to move. His hands paw at the slope of her back and curve of her ass. 

In front of her, Oscar is undoing his own belt. She should’ve realized sooner how he had positioned them. How the truck bed is conveniently long enough to let Lando work out his residual energy by thrusting into her while Oscar makes use of her mouth. 

He’s always three moves ahead of them. 

She leans down, ready for him without him even having to ask. “Spit,” He commands. She does it without hesitation. 

Oscar makes use of the makeshift lube and gives himself a few strokes before motioning her forward. She unhinges her jaw and relaxes her throat and still - she gags. 

“See Lando, patience works wonders.” 

“Please Osc, please - I’m dying over here-” 

“Go ahead baby, you’ve earned it.” Oscar chuckles. 

They find a rhythm. When one is going in, the other is going out. She’s drooling all down the exposed skin Oscar is showing. 

“Best. Fucking. Reward. Ever~” Lando punctuates each word with a particularly hard thrust. The sounds are ridiculous and they are lucky that the sound of engines revving is drowning them out. If anyone is watching - well - they are certainly getting a show. 

Oscar’s voice cracks. “Fucking hell, you two look so good.” She concludes the walls of his resolve are starting to crumble. That the grip she has on his waist to ground herself is enough to make him snap and throw him over the edge. 

“You like the show, Osc.” 

“You could say that.” 

Lando likes to be seen and Oscar likes to watch. She likes everything in-between that. To be the object of their affections and an element of desire. Something they covet enough to lose themselves like this. 

Everything gets messier - if that was even possible. Oscar snaps his head back and grips the back of her head so he can hold her stead and fuck her throat. Lando grips her hips and sets an unrelenting pace. Each movement is sloppier than the last. Each moan is more pitched. 

She swallows. Her throat constricts enough for Oscar to growl from somewhere deep and sum without any warning. The tears are streaming down her face as she gags on the new and sudden change of consistency. 

He drags her off and gives her no time to recover. Simply lunging forward and nearly sending her crashing backwards onto Lando. His hand goes back to the Brits throat while his tongue goes so deep into her mouth that there is no way he can’t taste himself. 

Lando is a mess of high pitched whines. “Please - please I’m close-” 

She inhales desperately as Oscar unlatches from her mouth only to find the sensitive spot on her exposed collarbone. “Osc-” 

“I could keep you two like this forever. Desperate and whiny. Leaking with the thought of how good it would feel to cum.” They are both letting out desperate sounds. “I bet that guy from earlier would have stayed away then. So consumed by us that he could smell it on you.” 

“Yesyesyes - please-” She’s going to lose her mind. Lando might be closer than she is and yet he won’t slow down. There is nothing but this until Oscar tells them yes. Because it feels better waiting for it. 

And Lando will always go by feel.

“You’ve earned it Lando, fill our girl up yeah? Make her cry harder.” 

Oscar has to cover her mouth as everything goes white. Her ears are ringing - swimming in the sounds of their voices and nothing else. It’s white hot blissful nothing. No thoughts or anxieties, no worries about some guy making passes at her. 

Here she knows the two men who want nothing but to see her smile and cry for their cocks. Which is a stark contrast considering - but she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Oscar recovers the quickest. Swiftly jumping out of the truck bed to grab their extra blanket and hoodies. “I can’t really clean you two up yet, but will this do for now?” He shifts his weight between feet. Normally more prepared, ready to meet the needs of physical pains and emotional needs that come with the aftermath. 

They both nod and excitedly wait for him to climb back up. “That… was amazing,” she laughs. Her voice broken and hoarse from her throat being used. 

Oscar winces. “I need to get you some water.” 

“Osc-”

“Yeah.” 

“Relax! It felt good! It was great and we’re okay.” Lando gestures to the two who can barely move. Bodies still twitching from the overwhelming sensations. “Now we shall bask in the glory that is the ridiculous amount of cash we made tonight!”

“What are you gonna spend it on?” 

“You, of course!” Oscar leans her into his side as Lando throws an arm around her shoulders for good measure. 

Cars begin to drive past. Leaving for the night either to wherever they are staying or another race. They wave off some of the familiar faces and flip off the annoying ones. Yeah - she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ceesimz]

Best of Both Worlds

Yes, the title is a Hannah Montana song, it fits perfectly. Also, for the sake of fiction, Leah did in fact play at Wembley, thank you!

Possibly the most long-awaited day of Leah's life; her national team return. It was one thing to play for The Arsenal again, but to represent her country whilst wearing the captain's armband at Wembley was an experience that simply couldn't be matched. And that's why it meant everything and more to her that you were in the stands with her family and her name on your back.

It wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing match ever, a 1-1 draw against Sweden, but Leah was back in her rightful place under her rightful role, and that was a win in itself. With each step on the pitch, your heart swelled with pride, knowing the mountain she'd climbed with her injury and how hard it had been mentally with each bump in the road, especially when she had to drop out of the last camp.

But here you were, seated in the same area of the stands her family had been when she had won the Euros, watching on in awe at how seamlessly she slipped back into the team. You had missed that fateful day back in 2022, having only met Leah five months after it at a New Year's Eve party, but with the affection Leah described that day with, you may as well have lived it for yourself. Now, having experienced your first game at Wembley since you hadn't gone to that game last year, you were beaming as you watched your girl command her national team around again.

Sure, you'd been to many a game of her's before, but there was something different about this one. There were obvious reasons of course, her injury and whatnot, but seeing her lead her team out to a stadium filled with the most people she'd ever played in front of, a feeling settled in your chest that was unlike anything before. And when she was back in your arms at the end of the game, you would show her exactly how much you treasured her.

So, as she made her way around the stadium post-game, taking the time to applaud all the fans that had come along to watch and signing things for some, there was a smile of admiration on your face that her cousin beside you noticed. You blushed heavily at the teasing nudge she gave you with a smirk on her face.

"I suggest you wipe that cheesy, love-sick smile off your face before she comes over and bullies you for it." The woman next to you said, the pair of you laughing as you rolled your eyes, both all too familiar with her antics.

But the absence of said smile only lasted for about a minute, because then Leah was making her way over to the area of stands where you and her family was, and she had a down-turned smile on her face, the one she always did whilst trying to suppress her actual one. You were sat on the second row behind Leah's immediate family, so you stood back and waited for her to greet them all, also doing so as to not attract much fan attention. Leah made that hard though, because when her Mum pulled her into a bear hug, she indulged herself fully in it for about five seconds before her eyes flitted up to you and the corners of her mouth finally quirked up.

She jokingly pushed her Mum to the side so that she could reach out for you, and leaned up to hug you tightly. However, you pulled away after a few moments, and she made her disapproval very clear.

"What you doing that for?" She quizzed grumpily, looking utterly unimpressed up at you as some of her family members chuckled at her.

"The fans, Leah. We're at Wembley, think of all the videos." You whispered close to her ear, not quite intelligible for the others to hear.

"Who gives a toss, babe, I've hugged all my family here and you're no different." She responded, and she pulled you back in before you could complain. You wouldn't have complained anyway, because really who were you to deny your girlfriend's hug, your favourite in the world.

"Don't throw a strop later if there's about a million different angles of this." You teased, pinching her side where one of your hands rested around her.

"Doesn't matter, it's still you I get to go home with." She murmured before quickly pecking the spot under your ear and pulling back with one last squeeze. When she leaned back, she saw the light blush to your cheeks and smirked. "A year later and I've still got it."

You shoved her away lightly so that she could chat with the rest of her family before going off to do her post-match routine. Seeing her with her family, who she was so tight-knit with, was always a joy to see and you'd never get tired of seeing it. And as she jogged away back to the tunnel, her Mum turned to you and embraced you too.

"Thanks for coming, darling, it means a lot to her and to us too." She told you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. Praise and gratitude from her never got old either.

"Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." You said back to her, to which she smiled and kissed your cheek.

You and the rest of the group made your way around to the family area inside the stadium to wait for her, making light conversation with them all to pass the time whilst Leah carried out media duties. It was fun and easy spending time with her family, because as a result of your girlfriend's relationship with them, you had grown almost as close with them too. Ever present at family dinners, birthdays, and events like christenings and weddings etc, now it was second nature for you to follow Leah to them. Within only a few months of being with Leah, every invite had your name on it too.

In the middle of your conversation with her cousins, talking excitedly about plans for the summer vacation later that year, you were interrupted as Leah finally appeared in her tracksuit with short wet blonde hair, a soft smile on her face. She spent a bit of time talking some more with her family, before bidding them farewell and wandering over to you.

"Home time?" You wondered, reaching a hand out to brush some of her hair back behind her shoulder.

You had, rather bravely, drove to the stadium today after Leah somehow secured you a reserved parking space, with the plan of driving yourself and Leah home your flat for the night before she travelled back up north to St. George's Park with the team tomorrow.

"God, yes." She sighed, and you smiled up at her.

"Let's go then." You took the hand she offered after pulling up her hood and let her lead the way out of the stadium.

Arriving at your car, with a few curious stares from fans to see if the hooded figure beside you was who they thought it was, you helped her lift her things into the boot of your car before the pair of you clambered in.

For the time it took to drive home, you caught up with her as it had been a few days since you had seen each other whilst she had been at camp. You, ever the safe driver, weren't one to hold your girlfriend's hands whilst on the road, always with two hands on the wheel at all times. Leah teased you of course, her and her English humour never falling to banter you everytime she could, but nevertheless when she was feeling a little clingy her hand would rest on your thigh as you drove, or it would massage and stroke the back of your neck as her arm leaned on your seat's headrest.

Today was a case of her resting a hand mindlessly on your thigh, something you would smile at constantly and glance down at the sight every chance you could get. She didn't notice though, busy talking and too tired to realise. Adjusting back to playing 90 minutes was something she was still in the middle of, not that she couldn't handle them because she obviously can, it's just the tiredness afterwards was something she hadn't experienced in a while of playing professionally.

That meant you weren't exactly surprised when she flopped down immediately on your sofa when you got home, not even bothering to drop her bags off in your room.

"Want some food, love?" You offered, pushing her bags to the side of the hallway so that they weren't a tripping hazard before leaning against the doorway of your lounge.

"You don't have to cook, we can just order a Nando's or something." Leah yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"Well, I thought ahead." You smiled at her, giggling at the tired and confused expression she silently responds with. "I meal-planned for you. I can heat up a plate of that Carribbean chicken and rice and veg if you want."

She gazed at you for a few moments before her head dropped back against the pillows with a groan.

"If I had a ring right now, I'd ask to marry you."

With a laugh, you took that as a yes and headed to the kitchen to do exactly as you said. As you were gone, the blonde put Netflix on the TV and chose the sitcom you had been watching together before pausing the episode to wait for you. She sat up with a groan and slumped back heavily, going onto her phone to reply to some friends and family.

Not so long later, you walked back in with Leah's food, handing it to her before sitting down beside her. Plate and fork in hand, she twisted her body to lean her back against your shoulder and happily tucked into her meal as you pressed play on the TV.

"Thanks for this, babe, I'm really grateful." She muttered as she ate, to which you smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's no problem, Le. I made a plate for myself too but I had a hot dog at half-time so I'm not hungry." You revealed, giggling as Leah chuckled.

"I know it's just a plate of food but... I don't know, means a lot to me that you thought about this." With a light blush, you shrugged nonchalantly and kissed the side of her head.

"I would say I know you'd do the same for me, but everybody knows you can't cook." You jested, grinning when she grumbled under her breath.

"I was only being nice, but alright." She huffed, but you only held her tighter against you.

"I'm kidding. I just love you, s'all. Wanna take care of you, especially after the last year and especially because I know you're a bit of a bottomless pit after a game." You say, and she hums in agreement. "If I'd have known my chicken was so good, it inspired thoughts of marriage, I'd have made it more often."

"I could never say no to that."

You both fell silent at that, more than content to enjoy each other's company with the show on in the background. Spending time with you after a game, just relaxing together, was fastly becoming Leah's favourite tradition. Going to dinners with friends or partying were great, but not much could beat this. Great food with even better company, in the arms of her girlfriend, Leah was finally at peace with the silence she had to greet after a game that was anything but.

That was something not many people would guess was a struggle in women's football. Going from playing in tiny stadiums to bigger venues but hardly any fans, to then playing in sold-out game after sold-out game for both club and country, that was her dream. What she wasn't expecting was the mental challenge that came with it. Spending well over 90 minutes in a booming stadium with fans that never ceased their chants was astounding to her, but the silence that met her when she would go home to a quiet and empty apartment was difficult.

She had worked on dealing with it better since the Euros where it had really picked up, but there was one thing that made it so much easier every time without fail. And that was you.

"You know I do plan to marry you, right?" Leah piped up out of nowhere sometime later, her plate long discarded to the coffee table as your positions on the couch remained the same. At her out-of-the-blue question that took your breath away a little, you cleared your throat and nodded though she couldn't see you.

"Yeah."

"Because I do want to marry you one day. I've known that from early on, I actually know the exact moment I thought that."

"Do tell, my love." You smiled, never one to pass up on a chance to hear just how and when Leah had fallen for you.

"The second time we saw each other after the New Year's party, when you started teasing me for not kissing you again after that night."

Much to Alex's dismay, the night of that party yourself and Leah had spent pretty much all of it talking about everything and nothing, compelled by a desire to get to know each other. That was until the blonde's intake of Dutch courage lived up to its name as she kissed you a little more than what could be described as friendly once the clock struck midnight. And when the night ended, no matter how much you didn't want to leave, you both shared a taxi to your respective apartments and exchanged details. It wasn't long before you saw her again though, in fact you saw her twice in the two weeks that followed, but the defender had been a little too embarrassed at her eager act a few weeks prior to kiss you again. But when you teased her one too many times about it, on the third 'date', she huffed before firmly yet delicately gripping your face and finally kissing you again.

"I spoke to Wally after our second date and she called me crazy for knowing I'd marry you when I didn't even have the balls to kiss you again." You laughed loudly at that, a notion Leah soon joined in with as she knew her past-self had acted in a ridiculous and shy way. "But that's the truth, babe. I knew I had to have you, and what better way to show that than snogging the life out of you on a random bench in London."

"Ew, Leah! Why describe it like that? I thought it was such a sweet moment, but you've just described it like we were two horny teenagers." She grimaced at the point you made, regretting it already.

"My bad. It was sweet. If not a bit... desperate." She snickered, grinning when you swatted her shoulder. "So, would you marry me then?"

"Wow. If this conversation couldn't get any less romantic, I think you've just put the nail in the coffin." Leah scoffed and sat up, fixing you with a disapproving look.

"That wasn't my actual proposal, you knob. I just wanna know if you'd say yes when I did eventually ask. Properly, that is." The defender asked with a shy smile, and you couldn't help but giggle at her face, doing so more when she frowned in confusion.

"Yes, I would accept your proposal. As long as it's with a nice ring and a better speech." You answered to put her out of her misery. She lets out a relieved sigh but smiling again.

"Noted."

With that, she stood up, now your turn to be confused. Squealing as she lifted you up bridal style, you laughed when she lay you down on your back length-ways across the sofa. Then, she kneeled against the cushions under your knees and carefully laid on top of you, her head resting against your stomach. Her hands came up to slide under your back and she sighed contently.

"Comfy?" You asked with a smile, your own hands settling on the back of her head.

"So comfy." She hummed, eyes closed as she faced away from the TV.

"If you're gonna fall asleep, Le, we may as well go to bed."

"No." She grunted. "I won't fall asleep. I just want to lay here for a bit."

"Alright." You conceded, your attention fully lost from the TV and instead on the girl draped over you.

You admired the slight view of her face available to you, your hands combing delicately through her almost dried hair as the only sounds shared between you were the calm and quiet breaths you both let out. A few minutes passed by and you thought she had gone to sleep, but she proved you wrong.

"This is my dream, you know."

"What is?" You asked her, moving one of your hands to rest on the side of your face and stroking her skin there with your thumb.

"Going home from a game to someone I love. Who I can fully switch off with." The small explanation had you beaming, beyond happy to hear how special you were to her.

"Well, I'm glad I can help, my love." You replied, a sheepishly proud smile on your face.

"I used to find it hard, y'know... our football blew up in popularity during the Euros, and I struggled with it more than I expected." You hummed curiously, not wanting to disrupt her train of thought but letting her know you wanted her to continue. "Going from being surrounded by up to ninety thousand people, singing and chanting and cheering non-stop, to just... nothing when I got home. Just a cold, empty, silent apartment. The contrast of it troubled me a lot. I worked through it with a psychologist and coped with it better, but it was never perfect."

She paused, adjusting her position so that her hands came to rest under her chin as she looked up at you, that same down-turned smile from earlier returning. Your hands fell to clasp behind her neck, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Then you came around, and now that anxiety doesn't even phase me anymore."

Now, if that wasn't the most heart-warming thing your girlfriend had said so far, you weren't sure what was.

"That makes me so happy, Leah." You whispered, cupping her cheeks with your hands and smiling softly at her.

"One of my favourite things about our relationship is how easy it is for me to switch from Leah Williamson the footballer, to just Leah when I'm around you. Makes coming home after a game much easier."

Shaking your head, you took her hands and urged her to move further up your body so that her head rested against your chest. Wrapping your arms around her, you squeezed her tightly, desperate to convey your love to her in a way words couldn't explain.

"I'll happily welcome 'Just Leah' home all the time."

"Now you're ruining the moment."

[tteokdoroki]

hurricane heartbreak katsuki bakugou ── ᡣ𐭩 ˙ ̟🩰 !!

⋆˙ᝰ about ! you’ve always thought that katsuki would follow you to the ends of the earth, until suddenly, he stops. especially when he realises that he’s better off without you. ( 2.6K )

warnings ! minors blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, angst, no happy ending. characters aged up to 20s, unrequited love, friendship breakups, regular breakups, confessions, gaslighting, reader is morally flawed and a bad friend, katsuki is a hopeless romantic :(, fem!reader, pro hero!bakugou - not beta read!

as usual, katsuki moves to open the door before his mind can catch up. 

he knows that he shouldn’t. if he kept the doors locked he could keep his heart safe from the ache that comes with the person on the other side. but, the bigger and weaker half of him succumbs to the longing laced in the blood that soars through the beating muscle keeping him alive. the same muscle every form of media since the dawn of time has associated with the human desire to be loved and adored. 

it’s a human code that he can’t go against, like asking a neanderthal to fight it’s basic instincts. katsuki opens the door not because he wants to, but because he has to, even if his entire body twitches against the will of his one track mind and his hand lands on the cool metal doorknob in advance of his logical train of thought. besides, it’s raining tonight, and it would be cruel to leave you outside. 

as usual, when you step past the threshold of the number two hero’s lush, bachelor pad-like home — he expects things to be different. for you to waltz in with your arms wide spread and a spark of joy in your eyes because you love seeing the blonde and because you missed him. 

“it was so horrible,” you wail to him instead, just as you had done so on the phone — except this time, the cadence to your usually bright voice is as dull and as dreary as the weather outside. “he blew up at me, said that we were done ‘n that i was too clingy. just like that,” pouting, you shrug off your rain-slicked jacket and allow your best friend to hang it up for you. before you can start quivering like a pathetic stray dog, the begrudgingly kind pro hero places a set of clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, into your hands and ushers you deeper into the space he calls home.

“fuck that guy,” he tells you, while you rant to him on the walk down the hall.

katsuki lets you you dry off and disappear into his room for spare clothes (as if you own the place), giving himself time to think and reflect. the you that katsuki knows and has bitterly come to love is hollowed and desperate — vying for any attention or affection she can get from people who just don’t care. he’s never understood it, the reasons why you go vying for the validation of others who don’t deserve a millisecond of your time, let alone your precious smile.

you know, the one that brings out the crows feet at the corners of your doe-like eyes and lifts the edges of your glossed lips ever so slightly. you illuminate a room and fill it with warmth when you’re happy and feel loved but when you’re like this… thrown out into the rain whilst being hungry for more — much like that of a stray…

…it’s bakugou’s hand that reaches out to feed you tender love and care from the pieces of his own broken soul. he does everything im his power to make you smile again, otherwise he’d shake the heavens from the sky and bring their shattered pieces back down to earth with his destructive quirk…for you.

everything is always for you.

katsuki is the one who deserves to see your radiant grin and be the one that’s always on your mind. so perhaps, he is no better than you, starved with a craving for the attention of someone whose thoughts are simply elsewhere. with someone else.

you resurface from his room wearing a discontinued all-might shirt with an iron-on design that’s cracked on the front and a pair of fluffy dynamight themed socks kept spare in katsuki’s wash for whenever you come over. by this time he’s already popped on the kettle for some herbal tea, though his back remains facing you — fingers clenched against his smooth marble countertop. “why would he say that?” 

you shrug. “i don’t know… i probably deserve it. this always happens.” 

to his right, the kettle’s whistle reaches it’s crescendo but katsuki doesn’t bother to add hot water to your tea.

the assessment you make as you pad back over to katsuki is only partly correct. he turns abruptly, prepped and ready to loosely wrap his arms around you in a familiar hug, another step in this bi-monthly routine the two of you have going. your nose presses into the middle of his molten chest, sending a pang through his heart like an arrow from Cupid whilst simultaneously riling up the butterflies in his tummy. you’re so cute, so sweet and it makes the blonde feel special to be able to witness the more vulnerable parts of you — the parts of you pieced back together by inexpensive glue after you’ve been shattered by heartbreak once more.

you, you’re too sweet to deserve this pain. the same pain that weighs down on the pro hero’s shoulders because he can’t stop chasing after you. this always happens, but you don’t deserve it. even if it’s like some sort of cathartic karma for leading bakugou on all of these years. 

nonetheless, he’s never been the best at comforting people but a selfish warmth that burns brighter than his quirk spans throughout katsuki’s body whenever you seek comfort in him. even if all it does is chip away at his soul, knowing that you’re all torn up about someone else and someone that isn’t him yet again. 

katsuki abandons the tea completely.

however, his cherry lips continue to open and close in search of words and phrases that may sedate your storm of emotions before they rain down on him — just like the world outside. they’re hard to come by, meaningful ones at least, so katsuki settles with a simple… “you deserve better.” 

“yeah? well it doesn’t seem like it. every guy i’ve ever met has hurt me some way, somehow.” you quip blandly, obliviously. “who does better even look like?

me. is what bakugou wants to say. he looks like me. but now isn’t the time or place to tell you that, it’s never been. deep down, he knows that you might never see him that way, as a someone who could treat you right, as someone deserving of your darkest desires and sweet nothings, as someone who could be the very person you deserve to grow old with. you don’t look at him the same way, to you, katsuki will always be your best friend and source of comfort.

he’ll never be a lover or a special one or a boyfriend. 

not to you. 

never to you.

and sadly, he almost feels content to stay this way — if it means he’ll be able to have you near. with the two of you tucked away in one another’s arms, swaying to the melody of harmonious wind and rain, the abrasive, corroding nature of katsuki bakugou is tamed and the world comes to a standstill that feels sort of homely. its familiar, a routine he’s so easily settled into time and time again. confessing to you would be like disrupting the natural course of your relationship and bakugou has seen what you do to guys who cross your limits or suddenly no longer entertain you. sometimes they genuinely do hurt you, other times you’re like a little girl who no longer has a desire to play with her favourite toy — easily casting them aside. the blonde would hate to be one of them, to be thrown out by the person he loves most.

“you’ll find someone,” he says gruffly, after some time. 

pulling away slightly and with a hand centre stage on katsuki’s ooey-gooey lovesick chest, you smile ever so gently. and it’s enough for him, even though it burns, it’s enough to make it worth it. all this suffering in silence, loving you from afar…that is, until he hears what you have to to say next. 

“i wish i could find someone like you, kats.”

the rain outside has hit its peak, bordering on the edge of torrential as it drowns the concrete jungle outside and the grey clouds it pours from shroud the city in a similar darkness to the veil falling over katsuki’s mind. now that, it really pisses his off. someone like him? why not him? he doesn’t understand why you actively put yourself through the ringer when what you want is right before your very eyes.

like a sudden clap of thunder or a strike of bright lightning, katsuki has a realisation. he isn’t so sure how much more of this he can stomach or take. a few weeks ago his best friend, kirishima, had scolded him long and hard for allowing you to walk all over the explosive pro hero. maybe the redhead had been right, your words seem almost purposeful and calculated — designed to hit him right where it hurts. whether or not you’re aware of the fact.

“y’can’t keep doing this.” comes the blonde’s whisper, coasting just under his breath, so low that you almost miss it underneath the howling notes of the wind.

“what?” 

“please stop doing this.” bakugou says again, but firmer, shrugging your hands from his well-built torso like they’ve given him an electric shock. a flash of hurt lines itself across your beautifully crafted features like a film of dust clinging to a marble carved sculpture belonging to an art museum. he hates it, how he can still admire you and treasure you even when you torture him with a punishment of unrequited love. “you can’t keep comin’ here every time you get your heart broken, knowing how i feel about you. it’s fucked up, you’re fucking me up.” 

people have only ever dreamed of being able to bring the great dynamight down to his knees. a man of such power and force could never be shaken, especially with everything that he’s been through to get where he is today. 

the colour in your voice pales, the glint to your eyes dulls and you nervously reach out for your best friend only to be rejected which hurts more than any shitty break up you’ve ever had. “k-katsuki…kats, what are you talking about?” 

“you know exactly what i mean. don’t try to gaslight me or some shit.” katsuki puts it simply, fighting the lump in his throat that nearly stops him from being truthful. it’s always been a difficult task to push you away, “we play pretend, you come to me expectin’ me to lick your wounds ‘n shit. fuck, i’ve been doing it for the last ten years. since todoroki first rejected you in high school, then that guy from class 1B and then shindou from that other school once we went pro.”

he rambles relentlessly and you take every word while memories of each heartbreak flash brightly before your very eyes. it’s clear to you now, standing in front of him, that bakugou has been holding this, whatever this is, inside for far too long. concealing his emotions until his fuse was at its end and it all exploded to the surface. “katsuki stop it.” you say weakly, throat dry.

“fuck no! why should i?” the brash blonde spits venomously, his upper lip curling into an ugly sneer. one you’ve only ever seen when he’s talking to villains, or better yet, talking about your exes. “because it never stopped for me. you never stopped using me.” he blabs, but he’s hardly shouting — the mere fact that he isn’t freaks you out even more. “it’s so fucked up, i’ve been waiting for a chance with you for years. i never said yes to someone fuckin’ loving me for who i am. for all the shit that i come with because i was waitin’ for you.”  for nearly a decade you’ve been offering katsuki all the riches in the world, only to pry them from his warmth fingers and leave him for cold and death.

you could apologise right then and there, make things right, tell katsuki that it was him all along and those other guys meant nothing to you. it’s what he wants so badly, it’s the only thing that could make him forget all of this drama and take you back into his arms. instead, you retreat like a hermit crab back into its shell, stepping back and away from your best friend while selfishly curling in on yourself.

“i didn’t… i didn’t ask you to wait.” 

those words are like a lightening strike to the chest. the white flashbang outside illuminates your face for katsuki to see, guilt outlines the natural slopes and continue of your face and some kind of regret floods the black ink on your eyes. bakugou’s suspicions have been proven true. you’ve never wanted him, not in the way that he’s wanted you. it must be that. must be that you kept him around knowing he’d chase shooting stars and run to the end of a rainbow if it meant the prize was you.

“you didn’t have to,” katsuki’s breathing turns ragged, mimicking the uncontrollable winds of a brewing storm, and his anxiety peaks, spilling over the edge of a glass he’d tried to keep half full for so long. he knew this, all along, he knew that you’d reject him plain and simple but why does it feel like his world is ending. “would have done it anyways ‘cause i am…was… in love with you. you didn’t need to ask me because you knew i'd always be there.” 

it hurts, the truth, it burns like acid rain dissolving through a manmade structure. you hate the taste of it in the air, as katsuki’s words ring through it — undermining the heavy rain pelting down against his roof. you don’t know what to say or tell him, but instead of the contentedness of being close to the blonde you now feel a sudden sense of impending doom. an epiphany. a realisation that you’re going to lose your best friend because you took advantage of a bleeding heart.

you’ve never been the only one whose organs were ripped out and ever-loving corpse was left for dead. each time pieces of you died at every soul-crushing rejecting you’ve ever faced — katsuki has been right behind you, falling to pieces, decomposing, breaking apart… watching you mourn a relationship with someone else. 

someone that wasn’t him. 

words and apologies tangle in your throat and form a knot that blocks their passage. what do you even say to someone who has inadvertently confessed their love for you — something in which you’re not sure you even believe in anymore? “i-i’m… i’m sorry,” slowly, you take a step forward, blindly reaching out for katsuki in his living room shrouded by darkness and only temporarily lit up my lightening crashes. but he steps back, he retreats into a person he used to be — one that was nasty and cruel despite how much he cared.

bearing his fangs, katsuki defends himself from the only person who could truly ever hurt him. you. his walls build up and he snarls again. “i don’t care.” though, his voice wobbles and his eyes are glossy under the harsh white light of the lightening by strikes outside — he remains defensive. 

“i’m sorry,” you sullenly repeat. for what? not loving him? for using him? you’re not sure. “katsuki…i’m sorry—“ 

you sound so genuine, your voice so sweet and sorrowful — it’s almost enough to make the man melt, for his walls to fall away and his heart to open back up just for you. but bakugou knows better, if gives in and steps closer and holds you once more — the cycle will repeat. you’ll know that you can come to him whenever you want, and take advantage of his pathetic yearning and devotion to you. over and over again, for as long as you want. because if you call he’ll answer, always. 

not this time though.

katsuki bakugou steels himself as though he’s facing his greatest foe, his jaw hardens, his ruby red eyes flutter shut and his head shakes and he tries so hard to resist you. when he finally looks at you again, after what feels like an eternity, you’re hopeful in thinking that maybe this can be fixed and you can keep your best friend. however, you’ve seen katsuki’s expression on a dozen other faces before.

that look people give you when they tell you it’s over, when they grow tired of you, when they leave you. 

you know it all too well, the face of someone breaking up with you. 

except this time you’re not losing a half baked love, this time you’re losing someone who adored every part of you even if it was severely flawed. 

you’re losing your best friend. your katsuki.

and all it took was the clouds parting and the heavens crying for you to realise that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[1800-lemonadeg1rl]

Sniffle any louder

Natasha Romanoff x reader

Minors dni!! Masterlist°•☆

Summary - when you show up to work il lit aggravates Natasha that is until she sees your dire state

Warnings - mention of illness, nonsexual nudity, hurt comfort, as usual not proofread

Word count - 2k

A/n - I started rushing at the end because I wanted to have it out by tonight so the ending might not be as good srry

Fractures of pain shot through your aching body like icicles as you left the team meeting. God how you wished you'd just admitted you were ill this morning instead of letting your pride get in the way and pretended to the team that you were right as rain. I guess that's what happens when your on a team with literal super soldiers, you too start believing your above any illness or injury. Oh, but how wrong you realised you were when this flu hit you like a ton of bricks. The combined migraine alongside with the distrsssing chill of your bones left little energy left for you to do anything except lie down and rest, which you hated to admit and wouldn't ever given the choice, despite how sickly you'd begun to look.

Your usual bright eyes full of life and wonder became dull and bloodshot from the lack of sleep your blocked nose had caused you the previous night when you chose to ignore it. The skin on your face that was often painted a rosy colour now paled almost deathly looking, comparable to that of a ghost. Your unshakable senses, often remarked as some of the best had become overworked and dulled from the sickness using up all your remaining energy causing you not to notice people around you until they had begun to speak. The gravelly gasping and choking noises that spluttered from your inflamed throat were foreign to your usual bubbly voice.

Despite these stark and clear changes in not only your physical appearance but also how you carried yourself around the compound you had tricked yourself, somehow, into the belief no one around you would notice. Obviously you were unwell anyone could see that from a mile off and if you didn't think out of a house full of spies, enhanced beings and military personnel that not one of them would pick up on something up with you then you must have been seriously down with something.

Unlucky for you someone did notice after your sniffling had interupted their train of thought for the seventh time, it didn't take a genuis but she'd been ignoring the signs since you arrived. Natasha Romanoff had been trying to reread and correct a badly written mission report written by an incompetent intern. This had already been stressful enough for her without the woman next to her trying to desperately through her blocked nose instead of just going home. The first time she actually noticed something was up was when you nearly walked into the door, stumbling around like bambi on ice. This was something someone with your spacial awareness and high senses would never manage to do if they were as okay as they were telling everyone they were. She spotted it again when you began to cough like a smoker and at that like someone who smoked at least five packs a day, a thing she knew you were not. You'd told her a while back that despite your bad habits which were endless and definitely on show today that you never wanted to smoke because it reminded you of your mother. So unless you'd switched up on that which she very much doubted and had taken up chain smoking the answer was clear; you were ill, very ill.

She also questioned why you were even here, how you were even here. Natasha would leap at the first chance to avoid these dull meetings even if it meant admitting illness to the rest of the group. She'd actually faked being ill before to skip debriefs and instead head to the gym. At one point she had no clue how you were even still able to be alive and functioning with how shallow your breaths were. Everytime your mouth opened a disgusting noise alike to the disgust she felt at nails on a chalk board rung from deep in your throat. Aswell your ever scratcher voice that was beginning to drive her insane. It was one thing to come in sick, it was another to make yourself more ill by working harder than usual.

This had made her angry more than anything, angry at your selflessness. Angry no one else would ever do this, including herself. Angry you put working above your own physical health. Angry that you'd risk everyone else getting ill instead of taking a sick day. Angry you couldnt just admit your illness and leave.

Your eighth sniffle really sent Natasha over the edge as she turned to look dead at you and gave you a menacingly dirty look. A scowl that could kill glowering into your soul. Yet in feverly state you could hardly even register the spy looking in your direction as you still tried to process something said in conversation several minutes ago. Throughout the rest of the meeting she sideyed, scowled, gritted teeth, frowned, muttered under breath and cursed in your direction much to you ignorance. On an average day you could recognise what emotion someone was going through just by being in the same room as them and the tone of their breath but right now even with Natasha directly next you, practically right in your face you couldn't pick up a single negative emotion.

After the meeting you quickly stumbled in the direction of your room, hoping to avoid anyone on the way there, which you managed with much ease despite your worsening condition. Once you reached your room you shut the door without bothering with the lock. Stripped to your underwear and crawled back into bed without a sound. Curling up under your soft thick duvets you shivered and slowly cried yourself into a feverish slumber.

Natasha stayed behind to finish her reports, which she easily could have done hours ago without your incessant coughing and sniffling and all round ill noises. It only infuriated her more as she worked quickly, alone and welcoming the silence since the end of the meeting. When she finished up the work she was just about ready to give you a piece of her mind. And thats what she was gonna do. She had strong feelings about you prioritisation of work over wellness and she was gonna share them with you whether you wanted to hear or not.

Easily, she threw open your door and it hit the wall with a bang, enraged she didnt notice your crumpled whimpering figure writhing under the duvet.

"Sniffle a little louder next meeting." She comments loudly and sarcastically before instantly wincing at the sight of you in the bed.

Instantly her whole demeanour changes into one of care and pure unhidden worry. Natasha crouched over your trembling figure on the bed. Quickly she removed the pile of blankets from overtop and pressed a palm to your forhead before just as swiftly pulling it away with a frown. You were boiling 38°c at the very least and yet your body was still shivering. Without thinking twice Natasha knew the best thing for you was a cold, very cold shower.

She carried your somehow still sleeping figure easily into the bathroom as if you were no more than a light weight to her, which you probably were considering her max dead lift. Gently and ever so carefully she sat you down in the bath before turning the cool shower on next to you. Adjusting it so the water pressure was lower than usual so that it maybe less of a shock for when you fully woke.

Soon after the water began to flow your eyes opened to the hazy view before you. Natasha knelt over the bath making sure you were just alright. When you noticed the water and the bath, definitely not where you fall asleep you began to panic. Quickly flailing much like a fish out of water. Thrashing to get out the bath and attempting to scrabble to your feet. Natasha noticed your sudden frenzy and much quicker than you could, grabbed a hold of your hands halting your movements while whispering affirming words to you.

"Shh sh its okay. Your just in the bath, don't worry were just trying to soothe your fever." She begins to rub your palms slowly in a way which soothes you and instantly slows your panic as you go to rest your head on the bathroom wall.

"Hm don't do that darling. Try and stay awake while your in the bath, just for now." She's says quietly afraid to worsen the headache you already had as she coaxes your head off the wall. "That's it good girl. You can do this."

Her small praises would have usually annoyed you and felt almost condescending but right now they were almost enough to make you smile. She was making you feel as if your feeble attempts to stay conscious were really doing anything.

"M' so tired." You mumbled out a response that slumped together into your mouth so it was barely understandable to Natasha yet she still smiled and nodded at you, not wanting you to feel any worse than you already did.

"That's okay sweet girl, the sooner we get you out the bath and some medicine down you the sooner you can sleep." All the while she kept rubbing at your hands and fingers to keep you grounded in the moment. "I'm going to find you some fresh clothes just stay here."

You nodded but the minute Natasha left your head flopped back against the wall as if magnetised towards it. Upon her return with fresh clothes Natasha tutted.

"You really aren't well, are you?" A small attempt at a nod on your part did not surprise her one bit. "See if you told someone earlier we wouldn't be here right now. You have to ask for help when you need it." She knew her words meant little to you in your current state but she wanted to start bedding them in now nonetheless.

"Now, do you need help getting dressed? There's no shame in needing the help."

"Uhm.. I think a bit." Your response was croaky and your voice was beginning to sound worse by the second.

"That's okay, I'll help you then." She gives you a hand getting out the bath and holds you upright as she helps fully undress you. In her panic to get you in the bath she hadn't thought to remove what you were wearing.

You weren't insecure about your body but something like this would usually not be on with you. But right now you knew you couldn't refuse the help Natasha was offering as you could barely even stand still yourself. So begrudgingly you allowed her to undo your bra and slip off your underwear before tossing them in the bath saying something about getting them to the wash later. Putting on the fresh clothes was easier than either of you anticipated as you didn't resist and her strength helped you from falling against the cold tile floor.

Natasha helped you hobble back towards your bed which you instantly fell against ready to embrace sleep again.

"Ah. Not so quick, first the medicine then sleep." She said softly handing you first a couple pills and some water. "For your headache." Begrudgingly you took them and Natasha smiled as she saw the look of grimace on your face finding it both amusing and adorable. "Okay sweet girl just the syrup left, this will help for your throat." You stared at the syrup in your hand with a frown. Just the smell of its contents was enough to make you dry heave and its colour wasn't tempting either. After two minutes of more convincing and praise you managed to stomach it, not all of it but enough so Natasha was happy enough to stop bothering you.

You knew after that you could finally emmerse yourself in a blissful slumber and with little care curled up, face pressing into Natasha who watched over you as you slept making sure nothing interupted your much needed rest.

Tags: @wandasfifthwife @yanaromanov @idkwhatever580 @stayevildarling

[martian-astro]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations

Jupiter in 9th is a great placement, even better if it's the 7th lord or darakaraka in d1. Your spouse will be intelligent. there's also a chance that you may do your master's or PhD after marriage. Your spouse can also have a job related to spirituality (one of my mom's friends has this placement and his wife is a reiki healer and also teaches meditation and hypnosis)

Jupiter in 10th is another really good placement. You and your spouse could start a business together, or you may meet them in your workplace. This is one of the placements that indicate that you'll earn more after marriage or once you start working WITH them (okay, so this example is interesting, i dont know how many of you know this, but there's an Indian company, dabur, and one of my relatives got married to the daughter of the brother of the guy who currently owns the company and let me tell you something, they are RICH RICH RICH, and like they helped my relative set up his own company and whenever we visit them, they give us such expensive gifts, you won't even find them anywhere, like custom made stuff) so if other factors support this, then you can get married into a super rich household

Venus conjunct ketu in 4th is a super common placement but I've noticed that it gives different results depending on what the ascendant is. A common prediction would be, that you guys will not get along with your spouse's family, you're gonna think that they waste too much money when they already have less of it. This is especially true for mother in law (I know a girl with this placement whose mother in law spends a lot on shopping and then asks for money from her, and she has to give in because divorce is not an option) i would recommend you guys to marry someone who doesn't have a mother 🥲

I KNOW SO MANY PEOPLE WITH MERCURY IN 8TH and it's so fascinating how it has the same exact effect on everyone. Okay, so this placement gives you 2 things, first, you'll gain a lot of money through joint accounts with your spouse, this could also be a marriage where you guys stay together just for money, a lot of celebrities have this placement. Second, your spouse is gonna hide things from you, like their salary (i know a woman with this placement and her husband was promoted and he told his wife that he was still doing the low pay job and he opened another account where he saved that extra money, while their family was having financial difficulties and stuff, it was a BIG deal)

Mercury in 11th is a nice placement, this could indicate a friends to lover type of story with your spouse. They could also be an extrovert, especially if mercury is in gemini. You guys will be focused on earning money but your whole focus won't be on money, like in 2nd or 8th house, it's gonna be more like "oh, this looks like a good idea, should we invest in this" kinda thing, i would say this is more like, both practical and romantic relationship

Moon in 8th..... Not exactly the best placement. Almost all the people that i know with this placement have been cheated on by their spouse, and again your spouse could hide things from you, but this time it's more emotional. Also, i have noticed that a lot of people with this placement marry someone who's in the closet, so their partner isn't affectionate and loving towards them and they think it's their fault but it's not, but it still ends up hurting them. You, yourself, could hide your feelings as well, and your spouse can see that and that's why they hide THEIR emotions, it's like a cycle. (if you have this, i would recommend you guys to go to therapy, heal your trauma and only then get into a serious relationship and sometimes you push your feelings down and you think you're over it, but you're not)

Mars in 8th can give very different results, but it does give you a spouse who is very sexual (and believe me, it's not always a good thing). If Mars is strong then it gives extremely good results, the ability to defeat your enemies and win, i know a person with this placement and she's a woman and people around her have always tried to ruin her life and she still managed to get up and is now living a great life. But if Mars is weak or worse, debilitated, then it can give an aggressive spouse, i know a person but i dont think i should share her story with you all, but if Mars is weak then... Don't marry. BUT if 7th lord and darakaraka of d1 is SUPER STRONG in d9 then go ahead.

Venus in 2nd is like okay okay, not bad but not good. I feel like this placement works better when it's in the cart of a man rather than a woman. The spouse will be good but will be more focused on earning money, even if they're already rich. From what I've seen, men are okay with wives like that, but women aren't, they need emotional security so being with a man who is focused on money makes them sad and lonely, whereas, men with this placement are more than happy to get wives like that, In MY opinion.

Sun conjunct ketu in 11th is another placement that is common, I know a lot of people with this. So, you will gain wealth but it's going to come very slowly, the type to MAKE generational wealth but not able to enjoy it. Also, i have noticed that these people always end up marrying someone who is in a lower position than them, career wise and so they support their spouse and at the same time take most of the financial responsibility of the family.

Ketu in 8th is SUCH a strong indicator of having a kid before marriage, or atleast getting pregnant. All the celebrities who've had a kid before marriage have this placement, Angelina Jolie and Shakira are two that i currently remember but I've seen it in the charts of a lot more. And listen, THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH THIS, OKAY.

© martian-astro All rights reserved, 2024

[luniarix]

FAVORITE FOLLOWER

ᥫ᭡synopsis : you have a mysterious follower who has been swiping up on your stories to flirt with you, and when you finally stop hesitating to reply back, he’s quick to make sure he sweeps you off your feet. if you let him, of course.

ᥫ᭡NOTE : the texts are a bit cut off, and i rlly don’t know how to fix it since it’s an app thing so :’))) (and don’t mind the dates on the texts(´；ω；`) it was too much of a hassle to change em LMAO) but just know that toji is complimenting you in each text you sexies <333

CW : fem!reader, chubby!reader, shy!reader, fluff, flirting, gentleman!toji, biker!toji, reader being an overthinker, slight angst (reader’s inner thoughts), talks of insecurity and reassurance, long distance!au, texting!au (with some cheesy texts), toji pining after u first o(｀ω´ )o, the bff is up to interpretation of your own gals :-)

a prequel to *⁀➷ 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜

“did he swipe up again?” your best friend asks, taking a bite out of the fruit bowl she was indulging in. you chew on your bottom lip, a way to try and suppress your lingering smile as you glance at her. “uh—yeah.” you breathlessly say, staring at the dms between you and another user.

toji was his name. you knew that much by his user and the way friends addressed him in the comments. he was a mysterious person, because although he posted himself, it was never much of his face. he was a biker, and he’d usually post the late night drives he went on. so that means, his helmet was all you could usually see.

but oh god, even if he didn’t show his face, everything else about him was so sexy. you just knew that he was so, so handsome. your best friend never fails to mention that huge possibility when the topic of toji himself is brought up—and intrigues you even more about who he really is.

“what’d he text you?” your friend asks, raising a brow as she sees the way you’re trying to hide the growing smile as you’re staring at your phone screen. you clear your throat, trying to act nonchalant. “nothing, he just said that i look pretty from my story.” she stares at you with a knowing look.

“let me see.” she gets up to walk over to you, curiosity and excitement written all over her face. you bashfully hesitate to show her your screen, but when you do—she’s practically geeking.

“girl why haven’t you replied to him yet?!”she scrolls up to see that he’s been consistently replying to your stories for a while, and you’re looking away from her piercing stare.

“2 and a half months of him flirting in your dms? and you’ve only been liking his texts?babes c’mon!! you should answer him!” your friend playfully hits her hips with yours and you groan. “well i would but—but i just haven’t had the courage to.” you place your head down, folding your arms under your head as support. your friend scoots closer towards you and places your phone right beside your elbow.

“just start by responding to his most recent flirty text to the picture you posted the other day.” you raise your head up again and grab your phone, glancing at your friend anxiously. she winks back at you in reassurance. you huff and slowly straighten your back, staring at your screen as you try to think of how to finally respond to him.

spring had just started rolling around, and the picture you posted on your story was of you in a long sleeve body con dress. you didn’t look anywhere near extravagant, as it was simply supposed to be an outfit out for a arcade night with your friends. but the way toji complimented you, you might as well have been wearing a dress to some gala.

he always had a formal way of complimenting— and if you were being honest, you liked it so much more than what other men were complimenting you with.

u fine asf. u send? and yo u sexy, let me hit pls aren’t exactly what a girl wants to hear as a conversation starter.

you suck in your bottom lip, chewing on the soft skin as you begin to type. you wanted to respond at one point, but with how highly he praised you, you shied away from flirting back as you felt a bit intimidated by him— more so because he was so mysterious and the way he carried himself was intriguing. you wanted to get to know him, truly.

but if you didn’t live up to what he was expecting? if you end up making him pull away somehow? if he wanted more than you could give? if you weren’t enough?

the overwhelming thoughts of overthinking chipped away at your eagerness to reply back, and so you’ve been putting it off. but with the push of your friend, you decide that it’s time to finally pull up those big girl panties and text the man that has been complimenting you in ways that has you swooning over and over again.

you decided that it’d be best to respond with a simple thank you, as you were still nervous as to how to start a conversation with him.

you stare at the screen as you groan, cringing at your own texts as you believed that maybe you should’ve said something different. you began to debate if you should just delete the text and say something else, but the more you thought about it the more you got into your own head. it wasn’t until you see the words “seen” under your texts that you begin freaking out.

“oh my god he’s texting—what the fuck!!” you panicked as you threw your phone across the table and began to fan yourself. your friend stares at you before cracking up, grabbing your phone as she hears a ding. “he texted you back already? girl he want you so bad. hurry up and reply!” she tosses your phone back to you, and you groan as you try to calm your nerves.

this was so stupid, it’s not like this was the first time someone was sliding up your dms—but it was different with him. toji was someone who you’d started crushing on the first time he swiped up. so like, freaking out was a normal reaction no?

“hurry up and check what he said!!” your friend ushers you while laughing to turn your phone back on as you playfully swat her away. you go back to instagram, and you can’t help but get flushed all over again.

you wince in shame. of course he would ask you as soon as you replied back—after all, you did keep him hanging for 2 and a half months while he was basically flirting with the wall in your dms. but he can’t blame you! you liked all of his texts, and you were just too shy (more like hesitant) to respond back until now! he’ll understand, right?

you sigh at the utter arrogance of that thought process. but you had to be honest with him, you knew that. but starting off a conversation in which you explained your insecurities and overthinking with him wasn’t a good first impression for yourself for a man that could blossom into someone more than a stranger—so you decided to give him a short yet truthful answer.

maybe, if (when) you two had the chance to grow into something more in the future, you would answer him in full.

if you were being honest, it’s quite endearing to know that toji’s clearly been waiting for your responses, and he’s now typing back. you tug at your oversized shirt as you let out a sigh of relief.

it was an exhale that you didn’t even know you were holding in.

you softly laugh at your silly overthinking, realizing how much you let the thoughts consume you that you hadn’t even given yourself the chance to get to know toji.

it seemed frightening the longer you pondered the interaction, and you probably should’ve done this a while ago.

after all, the things that frighten us within our minds tend to be less scarier when we’re actually faced with them.

“so how’s the convo with mysterious biker going?” your friend's soft-spoken voice brings you out of your inner monologue. you turn your body slightly towards her as you place your phone down to calm your nerves. they were good nerves, though. you were excited to finally get to talk to him.

a small but glowing smile forms on your lips as you prop your elbows on the table, resting your chin on your palms. "it's going good—and we're getting towards an actual conversation." your friend doesn’t miss how your eyes twinkle with giddiness, and she grins at you. “okay girl, see—i told you you should’ve texted him way sooner.” she gives you a pointed stare and you avert your gaze embarrassedly.

“i know,” you sheepishly shrug your shoulders, grabbing your phone again to look at what toji said. “i might have been holding myself back from letting him in—even if it was for just a moment.” you admit, words slowly dying out as you stare at your screen.

oh my. did he just call you mamas? and he’s been wanting to get to know you? he’s been wanting you? this whole time?

you almost let out a loud squeal, but you cover it up by keeping your fist near your mouth, muffling the giddy noise you made. was it even possible to fold this fast in a conversation? because surely, you knew by now that you didn’t want to stop here.

you almost didn’t even notice the change of texting toji had because of how exhilarated you felt, but you found it so cute as you believed it to be him getting more comfortable with you.

oh, you should’ve—really should’ve—talked to him much sooner. but you shouldn’t dwell on it anymore, as you still ended up talking to him. you begin to type, cheeks hurting from how hard you’re grinning, and your head in cloud 9.

“so,” your friend starts, having you turn your attention to her once again. "i see that you and toji are hitting it off pretty well, huh?" she raises her brows at you teasingly. you laugh, nodding your head in response.

“yeah… i—” you cut yourself off, trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. “i thought that it would be really intimidating if i ever talked to him, but i realized that i was just… afraid, i guess?” you timidly shrug your shoulders, because admitting how you felt out loud made you realize how trivial your hesitation actually was.

“now you know, hm?” your friend gives you a warm smile, knowing that the realization had hit you. she doesn’t tease you about it, nor does she make any more comments besides that.

no one should be forced to step out of their comfort zone if they aren't ready to do so anyway.

you give her a toothy-grin, nodding energetically. you were ecstatic—to say the least. “i’m not sure where this’ll go but i really want to take that leap—he’s super sweet and so cute.” your friend whistles in agreement. “look at what he’s said then!”

and so you do.

a sudden surge of warmth blooms and spreads throughout your chest, reaching up your neck and spreading across your face. you were warm, but it (mostly) wasn’t because you were swooning for toji once again—it was because you felt like this was the start of something new.

you had a gut feeling that this was going to be a long, and most definitely exciting new journey. and this time; you weren’t hesitant.

feel free to leave ideas in my inbox or a comment ♡ if i made any grammar mistakes that i missed, lmk! and thank u so much for reading (●´ω｀●)

[queenshelby]

AMERICAN GIRL (PART TWO)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace's Stepdaughter!Reader

Warning: Grace is a bully, infidelity, taboo, slow-burn

The following morning, when you woke up, it felt like a dream, hazy and blurred around the edges. But as the memories of the past few days came rushing back, accompanied by the now familiar feeling of unease, you remembered it was no dream.

You were living a new life now and  you were determined to make the best of it. It could be exciting, even thrilling.

The next few days passed by without any major incident, although the tension in the air was palpable especially since you and Emma never really left the house. These were Grace's orders and within the confinement of this mansion, you tried to find solace in the quiet moments: the few minutes you stole for yourself in the library, that early morning walk in the garden, without Grace's or anyone else's presence. 

It helped you maintain your calm, just as it did in prison, but there was no denying that this house carried a certain unease everywhere you went, instilled in its foundations and passed on from person to person, until it had become an unspoken presence.

Tommy had been away for most days, busying himself with work and illegal dealings while Grace either stayed at home or indulged in some shopping trips to either Birmingham or London. 

Over the days that had passed, when Tommy was around, mostly in the evenings or the early mornings, you heard him arguing with Grace. They argued a lot and you wondered why he was still with her after all those years.

You have heard some gossip from the maids in the house, the ones that were nosy and talking a lot, about how Grace had betrayed Tommy and, yet, he had fallen for her charm and her wit. She was his first true love after France and you wondered whether, perhaps, he held on to that or whether this had become strictly business now that Grace had connections to both, the US and Ireland. 

One of the arguments in particular surrounded the fact that you and Emma were here, which was something that made you uneasy.

You overheard them talking about you and Emma in Tommy's office late one night, and you couldn't help  but listen in - not because you wanted to snoop, but because their hushed conversation piqued your curiosity.

"I don't fucking understand, Grace. Why would you bring them here?"  Tommy's voice was low and controlled, but there was no mistaking the frustration in his tone.

"They're my stepdaughters, Thomas. It's not as if I had a choice in the matter. The Americans made a demand and I adhered, for your sake and for the sake of your business interests with them," Grace replied, her voice equally measured.

"For my sake, eh?" Tommy 's voice was dripping with sarcasm now, his eyebrows furrowing together as he leaned forward against the desk. "You adhered for my sake? I'm not so fucking sure, Grace. But then again, I am never so fucking sure with you," he spat and Grace let out a derisive snort.

"Alright, Thomas. I brought them here because I felt guilty for what happened. Emma was abused by another family member, which is why Y/N interfered. None of this would have happened if I had been a better person," Grace lied, feigning   innocence which is when you clenched your fists, but held your tongue, knowing that getting involved in their argument would do nothing but add fuel to the fire.

Tommy's gaze was fixed on Grace, his expression unreadable. "And you felt so guilty that you put them in the staffing quarters, Grace? Why is that?" he said, his tone ominous. "I suppose your guilt has limits, eh? Because clearly, you do not want to spend time with either of them and, yet, they are here, in my fucking house,"  Tommy's voice was low and dangerous, his eyes never leaving Grace's face.

Grace pursed her lips, her eyes flashing angrily. "You know as well as I do, Thomas, that having them in our living quarters complicates things. They will be a distraction and-"

"You are afraid of Y/N, aren't you?" Tommy interrupted her , his voice laced with amusement that sent a chill down her spine.

"Alright Tommy, perhaps I am afraid of her," Grace then admitted , her words barely escaping her lips, catching even herself by surprise.

She recovered quickly, continuing, "But with the connection they have to the American family, our business interests could be compromised. Surely you understand the implications-"

Tommy held up a hand, silencing Grace midsentence. "I understand the implications too well, Grace. But now I want to know why you are afraid of a 19-year-old woman ." Tommy's blue eyes bore into Grace's, his voice steady and unwavering. He had always been intuitive and perceptive and it was no different this time.

Grace took a deep breath, silently cursing herself for revealing her fear. "I am afraid of her because her father killed himself after the things I did to him. I cheated him for years and he never forgave me for that," Grace murmured, her voice barely audible. "I broke his heart in every imaginable way and he, in turn, destroyed himself because of me."

Thomas regarded Grace for a moment, absorbing what she just revealed to him. "And I am the man you cheated on him with?" he ought to confirm , the seriousness of his tone causing Grace's heart to quicken.

"Yes, Thomas." Her voice was a mere whisper, but she could sense his focus intensifying, the air in the room growing thicker by the second. 

"Fucking Hell Grace," Thomas muttered slowly, dragging a hand through his jet-black hair. "So, you thought it would be good idea to bring them into the man's house who you know they would likely blame for their father's death? Are you fucking serious?"  Thomas' voice was laced with a mixture of confusion and anger. "You really thought bringing them here would be a good idea? Bringing them to the place where they could see you with the man you had an affair with, the man who you had betrayed their father’s trust with?" Thomas' words came out in a harsh whisper as he shook his head in disappointment.

Grace swallowed hard, her throat suddenly feeling dry as she tried her best to justify her actions.

"Y/N killed a man, with a single gunshot to the head, and you bring her to my house, eh?" he then asked, raising an eyebrow at Grace and causing her to flinch at the harshness of his words.

Grace averted her gaze, carefully selecting her next words. "I brought them to the safest place I knew, and I secured two more years of trade with New York," she reasoned, though her words held more desperation than conviction.

Tommy took a deep breath, gritting his teeth as he tried to swallow his anger which is when you swallowed your pride and tore yourself away from the door, your bare feet silently padding the length of the hallway as you made your way back to your guest room. There was no use in listening to their quarrel anymore; the truth was out of the bag now, and it hung between them like a noose, waiting for an opportunity to tighten around their throats.

But as much as you tried to focus on the silence of the mansion, the words you had just heard continued to play at the forefront of your mind, an inescapable echo that threatened to consume you entirely. 

You knew who Tommy was and it served Grace right to be afraid of you , because you would never forgive her for the things she had done to your father. Not entirely. And yet, despite that knowledge, you also couldn't help but feel some small fragment of gratitude for the roof over your head and food on your table.

You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed and opening the windows to let in a cool breeze. The sound of trees rustling in the wind and the distant chatter of birds momentarily soothed your racing thoughts and, when you looked out of the window, you noticed Tommy retreating from the house , his shoulders tense and his gait heavy with what appeared to be an inner turmoil.

A ripple of guilt washed over you, knowing you may have contributed to his stress, and yet, you couldn't shake the sense of betrayal that lingered following what you had heard in the hallway.

Instinctively, you slipped on a silk robe, its emerald green color mirroring the depths of your eyes, as you left your room to join him outside. The mansion was quiet except for the distant echo of your footsteps as you traversed the corridor.

Tommy was out on the patio when you found him and his gaze was fixed on the darkness of the woods nearby.

A glass of whiskey dangled loosely from his hand, the amber liquid sloshing gently with each movement. You could see his jaw clenched tightly, and the rigid line of his shoulders told you this was uncomfortable somehow. 

As you approached, Tommy glanced up and offered you a small, weary smile. 

"Can't sleep?" he asked, the huskiness in his voice betraying his own restless night.

You shook your head slightly, shuddering against the cool spring breeze that drifted across the open patio. "I must admit, the house is somewhat... unsettling at night."

Tommy's eyes narrowed thoughtfully for a moment, as though weighing his words. "I imagine it would be," he conceded as you tentatively reached for the whiskey glass in his hand.

Tommy didn't hesitate to release it to you, his fingers brushing against yours with an unexpected warmth, sending a jolt through your body once again.

The whiskey burned pleasantly as you swallowed it down, letting the warmth spread through your chest and help to calm your racing thoughts. "I guess it's just going to take some time getting used to," you replied with a soft smile as you handed the glass back to him.

Tommy looked at you thoughtfully for a moment, his gaze unwavering, and you could feel yourself sinking into the depth of those blue eyes.

"I suppose it will," he finally responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a fleeting moment, silence hung in the air between you, pregnant with an expectation that neither of you dared to acknowledge. He took another sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving yours as the silence continued to stretched on, forming a strange intimacy that you had not anticipated. It was almost as if only the two of you existed in that moment, and everything else faded away into oblivion.

Despite the tension, Tommy felt the need to fill the void that had settled between you.

"I suppose we all have our ghosts to face in this house," he finally admitted, a whimsical smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You followed his gaze as it travelled towards the dense trees standing tall in the distance. The darkness seemed inviting, and the quiet seemed soothing, contrasting sharply with the unrest that churned within the walls of the mansion.

"My father once told me that we all have our stories to tell and so do the houses we live in. If these walls could talk, what do you suppose they would have to say?" you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the words floating effortlessly into the cool night air.

A faint smile graced your lips as a myriad of memories from your childhood invaded your thoughts.

"They would tell many tales indeed," Tommy agreed, swirling the contents of his glass before taking another sip of the fiery amber liquid. "This house belonged to a respectable man once, but he was also a lonely man, with no one to inherit his fortune," he began, casting a brief look over his shoulder to where the mansion stood, towering behind you both like an impenetrable fortress. "He took in strays, gave them a roof over their head and food on their table - but he never took in a woman whom he loved," Tommy told you and you watched him as he recalled the story, transported to another time and another place by the weight of his words. "I suppose love is a myth after all. There is desire and lust, sure, but love? I don't think it exists," Tommy said as if he was talking to himself, his gaze lost in the fire that flickered dangerously low in the outdoor hearth. "So if you ask me, this house once belonged to a smart man," he finished off as the night had grown colder around you, and the flickering light danced across your skin, casting shadows along your collarbones and the delicate slope of your shoulders.

"Maybe you are right. Maybe it doesn't exist and yet I wonder what kind of tales this man would tell if he were to speak now? He may have found love with someone who never reciprocated it. It's possible" you murmured thoughtfully, wrapping your arms around yourself as a chill ran down your spine.

The air seemed to grow heavy in the wake of your words, and neither of you dared to speak for a few moments. An invisible thread stretched between you, a curious connection that seemed to defy all reason, but you couldn't ignore the way it made your heart race.

Thomas' gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat longer than was necessary before breaking eye contact and taking another sip of whiskey.

"Perhaps," he eventually said candidly as the air grew colder around you when a sudden breeze picked up, rustling the leaves and sending a shiver down your spine.  "But love requires vulnerability and trust and a man who can afford a house like this, is neither vulnerable nor trusting," Thomas went on to explain, his words heavy with a hidden melancholy that made your heart clench. For the first time since you met him, you could sense a profound pain lingering underneath his usual charismatic and confident façade.

"Is this why you do not love Grace? Because you don't trust her?"  you asked, your voice gentle and curious. The words hung in the air for a moment, a question that seemed to hover between the two of you, as though waiting for the perfect moment to be answered.

Thomas' gaze shifted towards the glass in his hand before flicking back up to meet yours. "Love is a concept I struggle to understand, and it's not something I openly welcome in my life, whether trust someone or not," he told you, avoiding answering your question before observing the way you shivered from the cold.  "Come," he said, standing straight with his drink in hand and moving back towards the mansion. "Let's get you inside. You don't want to catch a cold now, do you?"

You followed him to the French doors, as you entered the grand mansion, taking one last glance at the patio with its dying fire. The stillness of the evening only heightened your senses and left you feeling strangely aware of his presence beside you.

Something about being near him stirred unspeakable emotions inside of you, feelings you couldn't justify nor understand. The strange allure of his tortured soul called out to a deep, primal part of you, begging to be explored. But you knew better than to indulge in such reckless desires.

"Tommy?" you asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between you as you walked towards the grand staircase which you knew was where you were going to part ways. "Do you think I could work for one of your businesses, just to make some money for a tutor, for my sister? She is still young and needs to be schooled," you  asked, the words slipping from your lips before you could think them through.

Tommy paused, his gaze locked with yours as a battle of emotions seemed to wage behind the depths of his eyes. 

"I will arrange a tutor for her tomorrow. There is no need for you to work simply so that your sister can be educated,"  Tommy replied sharply, breaking eye contact first as he continued to climb the grand staircase.

You lingered in the dimly lit foyer, your gaze following the broad line of his shoulders as he made his way up the stairs. There was a subtle firmness in his tone that you couldn't quite place - but it was strangely arousing all the same.

"Thank you, Tommy. I truly appreciate it," you said softly, maintaining your composure even as your thoughts tumbled recklessly. "But I would still like to work, please. It is very boring here," you pressed on, hoping to persuade him. "I could help in one of your pubs, or -"

Tommy stopped mid-step and turned to look down at you, his eyes softening ever so slightly. "We will find you something more suitable than bar work, eh? The pubs in Birmingham are not like the establishments that you are used to from New York," Tommy said with a hint of reproach in his voice. 

You watched this play of emotions across his face, your thoughts momentarily thrown off kilter by the sight of his dimpled smile. That alone sparked an inexplicable warmth deep within your chest, a feeling that you quickly fought to suppress. You had no business feeling such joy in the presence of Thomas Shelby.

You knew that. You understood that. But you couldn't help yourself around him. There was an inexplicable pull, an attraction that went beyond his devilishly handsome features or his powerful presence. You found yourself entranced by his pain, his tortured spirit that was slowly unraveling before your very eyes. It was as if he wore a veil and every time he spoke, a piece of it would fade away, revealing a snapshot of his true self.

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[inkdrinkerworld]

anxious!reader hates her outfit but can’t find anything else in her closet she wants to wear on a date with Remus 🥲

‘On my way.’

Remus’ text sparked more nerves in your chest. You were getting ready for a date and all Remus had said was, ‘dress fancy.’ You were at a complete loss. You’d tried on three different dresses and none of them felt right. You were debating telling Remus not to show up- what if he was wearing a pretty dress shirt and you just wore a summer dress? Gods forbid you underdressed and all the patrons at the place were dressed to the nines. 

Amidst your panic, you’d forgotten to go searching for a new dress in your collection and suddenly Remus was knocking at your door. 

“Fuck.” you mumble, looking at yourself one last time in your mid-length yellow silk dress and your white heels. Maybe Remus would be able to help you choose. 

His second knock is just as gentle as the first had been, and you open the door, finding Remus standing there with his hair all combed back with a couple wavy curls dangling by his eyes. He’s in a black shirt and matching dress pants, his shoes shining and he’s holding a bouquet of lovely orange lilies. 

“Oh you look stunning.” Remus must not see the beads of sweat rolling down your temple. 

“What?” he chuckles at your shock, nodding to your living room and you step aside, letting him in. 

“You look stunning, do you need more time?” He’s noticed the slightly rapid fall and rise of your chest. 

“You got me flowers.” you say stupidly and Remus laughs again. 

“I did, I’ll set them up if you need more time, dovey. We’ve still got about an hour to get to the place.” He’s already reaching for your usual vase and taking it to the sink. 

You look down at your dress and then back up at Remus. “You’re sure of this dress? Because I was really panicking about what to wear and you’re in all black,” Remus cuts off your rambling by tilting your chin up and giving you a gentle smile. 

“Breathe, dove.” you take a staged deep breath, but as you exhale you feel a little more relaxed. “You look fucking gorgeous in this, love it on you,” he kisses your lips, not at all caring about your glare as you wipe away smudged gloss from his lips. “You’re gonna be the best dressed there. Will you leave your hair up?” 

Remus has a thing about it, he likes your hair in any style, but up in a ponytail or in a bun with curled pieces falling out is his favourite. 

“I just have to curl some of the pieces.” you say breathlessly and he smiles. 

“Can I watch you?” you laugh, all your anxieties quelled as Remus follows up behind you, the ghost of his hand skimming the hem of your dress.

[buckysbabygorl]

A Favour (Part 4)

Part 3

MAJOR SMUT ALERT

Summary: When secrets are revealed during girl’s night, Y/N takes action.

“Wow, talk about impulsive.”

Wanda wiggled further into her floor poof, noting to herself that she was definitely gifted Y/N new ones for Christmas.

“I know,” she filled up their glasses again. “I guess I dodged a bullet there. Still doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Tucking the wine bottle on the nightstand before flopping to the floor, Y/N sighed.

The abandoned date was a week behind her, but she still couldn’t shake her frustration.

“He’s always hitting on me. And now Jane wants to give things another go and I’m discarded like a consolation prize.”

Wanda awed, “Oh love, don’t think of yourself that way.”

Her hand reached for Y/N’s arm, her thumb running over it softly.

“Men have a way about them, I’ll never understand it but it’s like—they constantly chase after the one that got away. It’s to no fault of your own, he’s just stupid.”

Y/N sipped her wine, smiling at Wanda.

“Thanks babe. Honestly, at the end of the day they have history. They’re well suited for each other. Hell they probably have better chemistry than Thor and I would have—”

“Oh I’m sure that’s not a factor. That man could have chemistry with anyone.”

Y/N wracked with laughter, Wanda was pretty reserved about her attractions. It was shocking when they came out.

“For sure. Big and bulky, thousands of years of experience…”

Wanda hummed, “Experience. Now that’s the kind of man you need Y/N. Someone who knows his way around a woman.”

Wanda flipped abruptly, sliding drunkenly to lay across from Y/N.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Y/N looked at Wanda’s glass, seeing it was almost empty.

Note to self, we’re slowing down after this one

“Of course,” Y/N mock-whispered.

Wanda giggled, “The best fucks are the older guys.”

Y/N gasped and smacked Wanda’s arm as she howled.

“Wanda! You’re naughty.”

“I am, I am. But it’s true. Younger men are selfish, rushing to the main event… the older ones take their time.”

She sat up, consumed by her reminiscence.

“They hold you, they tease you, they cherish you. Two words for you Y/N: body worship. It is the best thing since sliced bread. And I’m making sandwiches.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know!” Wanda said, “But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

She threw back the rest of her glass and huffed.

“God, now I’m horny.”

Y/N scoffed, “You’re telling me. With all my potential suitors lined up, I’ve been on edge.”

Evident, considering her blatant proposition to Barnes.

She grew red at the thought, how could she do that? Just throw herself at him?

At least things weren’t awkward between them, he was even going to go as far to give her advice about Thor…

Now looking back on it, it did seem rather odd coming from him. She propositions him for sex, and then comes to give her bedrooms tips? Perhaps he had just been trying to compensate for that day before.

Whatever, she thought, she should just put it out of her head.

“Bucky!” Wanda exclaimed.

Y/N jolted, had she read her mind?

“What?”

Wanda shook her finger at her, “that’s the one you should go for. Christ, have you seen his arms?”

Y/N raised her brows and hummed, “Oh yes, yes I have. Beef cake to a T.”

“And that stubble, lord forgive me.”

Y/N pictured how it would feel scraping her neck, the inside of her thighs…

“But that ship has sailed. It didn’t even dock Wanda.”

Wanda halted as she reached for the wine bottle.

“Explain.”

“Well,” she bobbed her head as she thought, “I kinda already asked him.”

Wanda gasped.

“And he said no.”

Wanda then slammed her hand down. “Bad friend! How could you not tell me?”

Wanda grabbed her hand and shook it, “We could have made a game plan. He could’ve been putty in your hands!”

“I tried!” Y/N defended, “I thought it would be a good idea but it didn’t—I don’t know, pan out.”

Wanda groaned, “Where is Nat? She’ll talk some sense in to you.”

How could it have not panned out, Wanda thought. She knew of the affections he harbored for Y/N, him passing up his opportunity was beyond comprehension.

As if on cue, Nat barged through Y/N’s door. Stumbling with her bottle of tequila and go bag in hand, not even undressed from her late night mission.

“Okay!” She yelled, “I ran off the jet so I wouldn’t miss anything. I’ll do shots to catch up while you spill.”

She directed this to Y/N, who remained utterly confused.

“Spill what?”

Nat rolled her eyes as she unscrewed her bottle.

“Don’t be coy, it’s been a whole week since I talked with Barnes so I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m not in the loop.”

She mouthed the bottle and winced as the first shot went down. Wanda reached out with a grabby hand, and Nat complied.

“How was he? Tell us everything.” She demanded.

Wanda and Y/N shared a look of confusion, had Nat finally gone delusional after too many hits to the head?

“Nat, I’m serious. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her face was read over by the super-spy, and she watched as Nat’s face contorted into annoyance. Her hand darted to grab the bottle back from Wanda.

“Wait. You’re telling me he didn’t make a move?”

Y/N sat up slowly, “No…”

As she drew it out, Nat knew then that Barnes has chickened out.

“Oh that goddamn idiot.”

“Nat what are you talking about?”

She huffed. She knew Bucky would do this. She didn’t know why, but he always found some excuse as to why he shouldn’t follow through. Bucky had to be pushed, and what better way than to tell Y/N herself.

“He charged to your room last week after training, determined to fuck the shit out of you.”

Wanda’s cough sent white wine all over the floor, Nat patted her back as Y/N took this in.

“You’re joking.” Y/N stated.

“No! He told me you asked him to, I told him he was an idiot, and then he went to your room. At least I assume he did—”

“—he did!” Y/N said.

The two women looked at her in shock.

“And he did nothing?” Wanda asked.

Y/N fumbled over her words, “Well—he came in. Yeah, he came in. Then he saw me upset and then we just hung out but he—we, we just—he was gonna fuck me?”

“He wanted to! Like bull in China shop charging out of the room, wanted to fuck you.”

“I can’t believe this.” Y/N decided to take the rest of the wine bottle for herself, slopping it down in the chaos of this news.

“The fuck do I do now?”

Nat gently placed a hand on her knee, face sweet and genuine.

“You mount him, sweetie.”

Wanda nodded eagerly, filling her wine glass with tequila.

“Body worship.” She enunciated.

Nat side eyed her, “What?”

Wanda waved her hand at her, “I’ll explain later.”

As Y/N sat silent, the two stared at her. Eyes dead ahead, Y/N still couldn’t wrap her brain around the idea.

“So?” Nat asked, “Are you going?”

Y/N was shocked, “What, like now?”

Nat threw her head back as she swiped the tequila back from Wanda.

Wow, she thought, they’re both idiots I guess.

“Yes NOW. We just got back from the same mission, he’s in his room as we speak.”

“That doesn’t mean I should go now! I should talk to him, I—I don’t get why he’d change his mind after I asked him—”

“No.” Nat demanded. She stood up, grabbing Y/N and rising with her.

“You two talk way too much. Every time you two come out on the opposite page you started. Or—opposite end of the book. Whatever, you’re not on the same page!”

Nat dragged her to the door, and whipped it open.

“You want to fuck Barnes. He wants to fuck you. When you two start talking that suddenly goes out the window. No more chit-chat. You, are going to get laid tonight. And it’s gonna be by 6 feet, 250 pounds of fine-aged muscle. And you are not coming back here until you do!”

She tossed Y/N out the door, leaving her in stunned silence in the hallway.

~

Bucky stripped himself of his gear, his shoulders and neck aching from the grip of his harness.

God, it felt good to get that off. It felt good to be home.

What he desperately wanted was a rub down, a deep tissue massage courtesy of Stark Therapeutics. But it was far too late for that, he’d have to go tomorrow.

His mind began to wander in his exhaustion, forming a picture of delicate hands working his muscles.

Eventually, the image of Y/N’s wandering hands came into his fantasy. Pulling, yearning for his sensitive skin…

His palms ran up his face into his hair. Now he needed a cold shower.

He should’ve just done it.

He must have been a masochist, torturing and teasing himself with his own chances, graphic and vulgar images just taunting him.

You could have had this, she could have been yours.

He was mad at himself. Now, with their pathetic back-and-forth he would never have a chance like that again.

And then when she finally got back in the game she’d meet someone that rocked her world, then they’d get married and have beautiful mini Y/N babies because of all the rocking sex they’d have.

Alright, now he was being dramatic.

He needed to cool off, breathe, sleep it off and then reset.

He could do without one night of mental torture.

The ice cold water was uninviting, but much needed.

Though it was waking up his exhausted body, his mind was slowly letting go of Y/N.

Y/N, Y/N, Y/N….

He was trying his best, he really was. Especially after last week.

He made the choice to be supportive and passive about her sex life, things were feeling normal between them.

A knock came on his door. Turning off the water, he called out.

“Yeah?”

He waited a moment, but when receiving no answer, he went back to his shower.

He jumped out of his skin when the bathroom door whipped open.

Ponytail swinging, eyes hard, she darted to the shower.

“Y/N? What the hell!”

He didn’t attempt to cover himself, too shocked to move.

What the actual hell.

She pulled back the glass door, pausing as she took him in.

Every inch of him was just… goddamn insane.

Perfect arms, perfect abs, perfect v.

Looking down, she sighed.

“God, that’s gonna hurt.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide.

“Excuse me?”

She met his eyes. She looked wild; her pupils blown, panting, the water beginning to dampen her thin clothes.

Part of her hesitated, this was bold. This was a lot coming from her. The last few weeks were filled with waiting and waiting for the right proposal. She had tech geniuses, army vets, marine corps, doctors from all over the building shooting their shot, and none of them caught her attention.

But he however, was the only one she had sought after.

Thor had been tempting, but looking at Barnes in his soaked glory, she knew that the God could never compare. This was a man.

Bucky’s back hit the tiled wall, Y/N’s body being soaked by the shower stream.

His hands stay at his sides, unable to move.

This had to be a dream.

“I want you.”

Bucky’s mouth went dry at her declaration, lip dropping in slight awe.

“Do you want me?” She asked.

Their chests heaved in unison, the frozen water suddenly felt like a thousand degrees.

He stared at her. Her hands on his shoulders, that dangerous look in her eye…

“God yes.” He uttered.

It was so fast.

Her body pressed into him, soft lips covering his.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hands flew to her waist.

He turned them, hoisting her up against the wall. Her legs locked around his back as he ground his cock into her clothed pussy.

He pulled her bottom lip between his teeth, his hands nearly ripping her waistband.

He pulled back, resting his head against her forehead as he breathed out.

His body was on fire.

“Tell me you’re sure.”

She went to kiss him again and he ducked his chin.

“Y/N, tell me you’re sure.”

She rested her head back against the cold, wet tile. She felt the heat pooling in her body, her hands hot as they gripped into his shoulders.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I need you to fuck me Bucky.”

That was all he needed.

Shower abandoned, he rushed to the bed with her.

He raked his hands along her body, he needed to feel every inch of her. He needed her to feel how desperately he wanted this.

Goosebumps littered her flesh, his metal hand doing nothing to satiate.

She wrestled to get herself unclothed, eager for his skin against hers.

He pushed her hands away.

“Let me,” he urged, “Let me touch you.”

She complied, lifting her arms above her head as he undressed her. Strong hands delicate but sure, confidently removing every piece that was in his way.

She was perfect.

He took in all her beauty; collarbones exposed, breast perked under his touch, the soft and supple feel of her skin, those hips, those legs, that perfect pussy…

He began his descent, kissing every inch as he urged to her to lay back.

Her eyes never left him, watching as her ravished her torso with his lips.

Body worship echoed in her mind.

His hands wander upwards, grazing her sensitive thighs.

“Bucky, please.”

She loved it, she did. It felt so good to be cherished like this, his fingers kneading into every spot he could grab. But she wanted him, she needed to feel him.

“Baby,” he whispered, stubble scraping her inner thighs, “I gotta take my time with you.”

She moaned as he gently bit the inside of her thigh, lifting her legs over his shoulders.

He groaned at the sound, reminding himself to slow down.

God, he wanted to fuck her. He wanted to leave her breathless, whining, desperate to cum beneath him.

But he couldn’t now. Next time.

He met her eyes as his tongue licked her folds.

Her head rolled back as he drew another moan from her.

He listened to her body, the sounds she made as her delved further in to her pussy.

Show me what you like baby, give it all to me.

His lips circled around her clit, tongue working hard and fast.

He’d be damned if he didn’t make her cum before he was inside her.

He planned to ruin her for anyone else, he wanted her pleasure so overwhelming that she’d never forget why she waited. She needed to know what real sex felt like.

“Fuck, Bucky.”

Her thighs clenched around his head, losing herself. She tried to loosen them as he continued his assault, but his hands locked them into place.

Squeeze me love, don’t hesitate. I want it all.

She cried out as he worked harshly with his tongue, she knew she was about to come.

“Don’t stop, Bucky please don’t stop.”

Her back arched against the mattress, and he held her down with his flesh arm. He wanted his face in it when she came, tasting all she had to give.

He hummed against her, passionately continuing as she rode out her climax. He felt it drip down his face, chin slick with her wetness.

He was tempted to go again, really make her writhe from his tongue, have her screaming his name so loud that the rest of the compound would be pounding on his door.

He wanted to give her more; and more.

But he’d wait. Not now.

Now he needed to be inside her, have her tight and wet pussy grip him as he rutted into her.

He had to know how good she felt.

He wiped his chin before climbing on the bed, hovering over her.

She was speechless, eyes glassy as slipped himself between her legs.

“I’m gonna fuck you nice, and slow. You're gonna tell me what you need baby."

In awe, she lifted her hips to his. She didn't care if it hurt, the pleasure would come. She knew he'd make sure of that.

He grazed her entrance with his head, gently teasing.

"Tell me you want me."

She whimpered, mind reflecting on Wanda's statement earlier.

They hold you, they tease you, they cherish you…

He was relishing in her pleasure as much as she was.

“I want you Bucky, please. I want you to fuck me.”

She bucked her hips up to his, and he pressed her further into the mattress.

He hushed her, “Easy baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

His head ducked beneath her ear, softly sucking at the skin.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, his body warm against hers.

“Ready?”

She nodded into his shoulder.

Grabbing her chin, he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Staring into her eyes, he watched her face as he eased himself in.

God, he was huge.

Slowly, he let his cock fill her up. His hips stuttered at her tightness, she was so warm… so wet…

He kissed her neck as she sighed, hands sliding under her hips to hold her against him.

Her arms wrapped around his back, legs locking behind his so she could take all of him.

She wanted him to move, she needed him to move.

“Please Bucky, I’m ready.”

He nodded into her shoulder, steeling himself to not cum right then and there.

She felt so good, he’d wanted this for so long. And now she was begging him for more, perfect body wrapped around him.

His wildest dreams never could have imagined this.

His thrusts were gentle, purposeful.

He wanted her to take every inch, he wanted her a mess beneath him.

He gave it to her nice, and slow. Just as he promised.

She moaned softly as his rutting picked up pace, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

He groaned, “You’re taking me so well. You’re doing so good baby.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and Bucky’s sly smile grew against her skin.

Her heartbeat pulsed into his cheek, and he nipped at the skin of her neck.

“Yeah? You like that baby? Tell me.”

“Yes,” she breathed out, “You feel so good.”

He moaned into her neck, strokes rolling wave after wave of pleasure to her core.

“That’s my girl. That’s my good girl.”

She was soaking his cock, becoming tighter and tighter.

“You fuck me so good Bucky, fuck I—”

She couldn’t hold back her cry, his cock hitting the perfect spot inside of her.

He was worried he’d hurt her, but as her place contorted in pleasure he continued his pounding.

He hesitated in speaking, feeling selfish. Then couldn’t stop himself as she cried out his name.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

She said it without thinking, brain foggy and filled with thoughts of only him.

He could let the sound of that replay for eternity.

“That’s a good girl. Fuck you feel so good.”

He lifted her legs over his shoulders, pushing himself deeper inside her.

He slowed himself as she whined, trying to remember that he couldn’t ruin her yet.

It needed to be slow, this had to be all about her…

No matter how desperately he wanted her cumming from overstimulation, fingertips gripping the bedsheets, crying out his name and only his.

“Bucky…”

It was the only thing she knew to say, her mind devoting her words to only him.

He was getting close, but he couldn’t let himself finish.

Fucking her slow, he slipped his hand over her clit. Making gentle and soft circles, drawing her last orgasm out of her.

He bit into her calf as she came, urging himself not to cum as she did. She coated his thighs, and he moved faster.

His thumb on her clit moved with the pace of his thrusts.

“C’mon baby, give me another one. Cum for me Y/N.”

She felt lightheaded as another orgasm came, washing over her body as she cried out his name again.

“That’s my girl. Fuck Y/N, you’re perfect.”

He groaned as he finished, collapsing on top of her.

Sweaty and hot, they laid against one another. Legs tangled, his hands still pressing her into him.

Their breathing slowed, he reached over to gently kiss her forehead.

“You okay?” He whispered.

She hummed, nodding into his chest.

He chuckled, “Tired?”

She nodded again, smiling into his skin.

He slowly kissed along the side of her face, shifting to cradle her in his arms.

He was coming down from his high, the room became clearer. He drifted his hand along her spine, in silent awe that everything had changed in an instant.

“You really came barging in here.”

She laughed, laying her head on his chest.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, don’t be. It was an answer to my prayers.”

She laughed again, sitting up and pulling at her ponytail.

She let in drape over her shoulders, softly staring at him with a small smile.

“Could’ve been sooner. Nat said you chickened out last week.”

He groaned, “Of course she told you. I’m sorry, okay? I just got scared.”

“You got scared? It was my first time.”

“I know, but… I wanted it to be your choice. You asked me to earlier and I didn’t think you wanted what I did. I needed you to enjoy it.”

She hummed, laying against him again. Her hands placed in the soft tuft of hair on his chest.

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Enjoy it.”

She cuddled into his side, “Of course I did. I know I made the right choice, Buck.”

He nodded, his worries silenced.

“And I know I’m gonna enjoy it next time.”

His brows shot up, “Next time?”

“Oh yeah,” she lifted herself to face him, “next time.”

She kissed his lips, “And the next.”

Another kiss, “And the next.”

They laughed together as she continued. Thank god she had waited all this time.

Bucky drifted to sleep with the thought of each “next”, excited for every single one.

~

Permanent Tag-list:

@pigeonmama

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @niiight-dreamerrrr @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes

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Had some errors with Taglist usernames so if you’re not here and/or have been added but not requested, my apologies!

[moviecritc]

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

part 1 | part 2

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."

[quinnysnursery]

hi!! could you do caregiver!chris and little!fem reader where the two are playing around and chris is chasing her around the house until she accidentally bumps into something/falls down, causing her to cry and chris goes into immediate caregiver mode? thank you sm, so excited about this account!! :)

[🥤] bumps 'n bruises | chris sturniolo one-shot

paring : caregiver!chris sturniolo x gn!little!reader

divider credit : @kyejiz

a/n : working on a masterlist this weekend! (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl !)

“I’m gonna get you!” Chris’ voice echoed through the hallway, along with the sounds of your fuzzy sock-covered feet against the hardwood floor and the soft giggles you were letting out along the way.

The two of you had been playing this game of “Tickle Monster Chase” for around an hour now. What originally started as a way for you to get your energy out before your nap, turned into a full-on game.

Chris wasn’t the best when it came to keeping a routine, it was his biggest weak point as a caregiver. There had been plenty of times you skipped a nap due to both of you having too much fun playing and today was no exception. 

As you rounded the corner to take shelter in Chris’ room, you got the brilliant idea that you would shut the door before hiding under the bed away from the “Tickle Monster”.

Genius, right?

You thought so.

Another giggle emitted from you as you quickly turned the doorknob to your caregiver's room, sliding in and quickly trying to shut the door.

However, what you didn’t expect was for the door to move faster than you thought it would. As if in slow-motion you watched the wooden door swing close on your delicate hand.

The fear was more intense than the pain, at first. What if you broke something? What if you had to get the whole thing chopped off? What if dada didn’t want to play with you anymore?

Only after your eyes began to water at these anxious thoughts did your brain decide to register the pain.

And oh god it hurt.

“D-Dada!” You cried out.

Chris, who had stopped a few strides behind you to give you a fair chance, was now by your side in seconds.

“What happened?” He asked, his tone was serious. He quickly realized how you whimpered at this, not recognizing that he wasn’t mad at you and was instead focused on your injury.

“Baby, I need you to tell me what happened.” Chris tried again, letting the caregiver voice™️ seep through his vocal cords. You sniffled, the floodgates of your eyes beginning to open as tears began streaming down your cheeks.

“M’- M’ wanted to hide!” You attempted explaining, letting out a sharp whine as Chris ran a gentle finger over your already-bruising hand.

Chris nodded, trying to piece together what had happened based on the limited information. “And the door smashed your hand?” He asked, gently pushing your hair behind your ears.

You nodded before looking up at him with tear-ridden eyes. “M’ sorry!” You choked out 

“Hey…shhh, it’s alright. I’m not mad.” Chris comforted, gently leading his little one to the bed. “Can you move your hand for me, doll?” He asked, his mind already racing about the possibility of a fractured bone.

You trusted him with your littlespace. You trusted him to look after and nurture you while in headspace and he failed you.

Chris was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as you leaned into him, your tear-stained cheeks dampening his shirt (not that he’d ever mind). “Please, angel? For dada?” He asked, placing a gentle kiss atop your head.

After wrapping his arm around your torso and gently rubbing your upper arm, you began to stretch out your curled-up hand. Naturally, it hurt. However, to both your and Chris’ shock, it wasn’t unbearable. Henceforth, it wasn’t broken. In a few days, you’d have a gnarly bruise, but at least it wasn’t broken.

Your caregiver let out a sigh of relief, squeezing you gently. “Let’s get you some ice, okay?” He offered. You sniffled and let out a meek “..’kay dada..” before following the brunette downstairs to the kitchen. 

After wrapping a kitchen towel around a few pieces of ice from the fridge, Chris sat you on a countertop. “It might hurt for just a second, but the ice is gonna feel nice.” Your caregiver assured you, gently pressing the compress to your hand.

You couldn’t help but giggle, despite the pain. “Dada rhymed…” You mumbled, leaning your head against Chris’ chest. Chris smiled, “I did, didn’t I?” He played along, relieved to find your sense of humor hadn’t also been smashed.

A few moments of silence passed, the two of you processing the events of earlier.

“I’m really sorry,” Chris mumbled, still ashamed he’d let you get hurt during a game he suggested. You looked up at him, tilting your head in confusion. “You got hurt on my watch, that’s not cool.” He said remorsefully, already planning the full-length conversation he’d be having with you when you came out of littlespace. 

“You didn’t mean to…” You said gently, looking up at your caregiver. “It was jus’ an ac’ident dada.” You smiled wrinkling up your nose as you did. Chris smiled too, letting the compress rest on the counter as he engulfed you in a tight hug. 

Everything would be okay, even the bumps ‘n bruises. 

[apcllpsie]

— ON ACCIDENT

DEAN WINCHESTER x FEM!READ

★. 18+ CONTENT - read at your own discretion , youve been warned.

PAIRING?: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

OUTLINE: After a long day of hunting .. you, sam, and dean all head back to the motel. you & dean have some sort of tension after a incident during the hunt, and sam tries to make sure dean does something about it.

WARNING(S): smut , p : v , dirty talk , semi public sex , praise kink , strong language , use of pet names

It had been an extremely long day of hunting, you were beyond sore. And Sam was right, windigo's are a total bitch to chase. You began to slowly creep up on the windigo, when Dean followed closely right behind you. Unfortunately, Dean wasnt looking at the ground, he was looking at the girl infront of him.

"Son of a Bitch! Hes getting away!" y/n said, beginning to run after the windigo, dean followed right behind you, running after it. this windigo was fast, and could fit through tight spaces. You and dean had made it to a very tight spot, between two walls, deep down in this cavern where the windigo was keeping its victims. As you began to get in between the walls, so did Dean. And here you both were, stuck inbetween the walls. Your back on his chest. "Youve got to be kidding me. We lost him." You huffed in frustration and exhaustion. You were trying to move as best as you could, not helping Deans case.

"Y/n, stop moving." He said, embarrassed, following by a groan. "What..? Why?-" You had said, as you felt something on your back. Your face flushed red, "Im so sorry-" Dean began to repeat, over and over again. "I dont know why or how that happened-" He tried to explain, but you were in not only shock, but in embarrassment. The thing is, is that youve kinda always had a thing for Dean. I mean, he was your type. Total pretty boy, good smile, tall, flirty, knows how to talk, strong.. The list goes on. But, deep down you never thought that you would even have a chance with Dean. There was no way he had any sort of interest in you.. right?

"Dean, its okay. I wont mention it." You said, cutting off Dean. A million things were running through your mind, but you could only focus on one. "Lets get the hell out of here. I dont wanna be here anymore, we can chase after it tomorrow." Dean nodded in agreement, as they both got out of the situation together. That was definitely not something that you had on your bucket list. To get into a moment like that with Dean? As you caught up back with Sam, he noticed that both you and Dean were failing to have eye contact with eachother, let alone the fact that your guys' face was flushed red.

You guys got into the car, sitting beside Sam. You really couldnt sit next to Dean after what happened. It would really be nothing but awkward. And Sam could sense the tension. He needed to know what happened between you two. As you guys got the motel, you went to the back of the car, grabbed your bag and went straight inside. Enough time to unpack and be asleep before Dean talks to you about the situation.

"What the hell happened between you two?" Sam said, pausing in his tracks, turning around to face Dean. "Nothing, why?" He replies immediately. Nonchalant about the whole idea. "Dean, dont give me the BS, what happened between you two?" He repeats again, this time more firmly. A few seconds of silence took replacement of the voices of them when Dean replied. "When me and Y/n were chasing after the Windigo, we got.. stuck?" He says, keeping it to a bare minimum. Dean was already embarrassed about it, he just wasnt gonna show it. "Stuck.. huh.." Sam replied, "Stuck.. what do you mean?" He tilted his head, having a confused face. "She was infront of me, and we got stuck between two walls .. and i .. i uh-" He became silent again. "You.. what?" Sam already knew, he just wanted to hear Dean say it. "I got.. hard." Right after that, sam began to laugh.. hysterically.

Sam and Dean had finally came in. You were unpacked, and about to find something to eat. "I think im just gonna go to the gas station and grab something. Its just a block from here. You guys' want anything?" Y/n says, looking around at the boys who then look at eachother. "I dont want anything, but im pretty sure Dean might." He smirks to himself, with the comment. "Dude, shut up." Dean retaliated, standing up and grabbing his leather coat. "Ill go with you, dress warm, its cold out."

You put on your coat, and head out the door. Sam flashes a smirk at you and a wink at Dean. "You two dont get introuble now!" He laughed, as you began to walk down the road. Dean scoffed, walking beside you. "Im sorry, for today." He said, blurting out of nowhere. "I really didnt mean to, it really just happened in the moment, and i dont want things awkward between us.." You looked over at Dean and smiled. "Listen, its okay. I know it wasnt on purpose." Well, thats what Y/n thought. Dean laughed to himself after the comment. "What? Whats so funny?" You asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion. "Oh nothin, sweetheart."

That name came out of his mouth like butter, and god didnt it really heat you to your core. To hear him call you that, you just wanted to have him ALL over you. You guys got the stuff from the gas station and came back. It was a quiet trip, in the moment, your heart was racing and you most definitely wanted to take Dean somewhere you two could be alone. "Y/n?" He stops in his tracks, and turns around to look at you. "It was on purpose." He says. You were confused, but then it clicked. There it was again, that same feeling. "Why?" You ask, curious. "Because your attractive." He said, getting closer to you, he began to speak, his voice raspy, and deep. Perfectly just how you liked it. "You make me feel like that everday. You drive me insane." He says, letting it off his chest. "I need you, Y/n." Followed by a groan, he leads you to his car.

This was happening. What you thought about all the time. You got in the car, as he went around and slammed the door right behind him. He got in between your legs, kissing you roughly. He was starving, he needed you, badly. "God, you have no idea how long ive been waiting for this. All those nights, when it was you and me. I thought about bending you over then, and fucking you so rough." He said, kissing along your neck, leaving purple bruises. "Your mine now, sweetheart" Dean said, and he meant every word.

"Now, I need you to be a good girl for me. Can you do that?" He asked, looking at you in the eyes. "I can." You said, looking up at dean. "You cant cum til I tell you to. Okay sweet thing?" Hearing those names fall off his tongue was heaven. And it made you wet. "Yes sir." You said, following his order. “That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored. He ran his fingers along your core, in a circular motion. "Im gonna stretch you out so perfectly." Dean said, as he inserted two fingers in, and curled his fingers, giving the feeling that you needed. "Thats it, keep on making noise, i want everyone to know your mine."

He took out his fingers, holding your legs open for what was gonna happen next. His pulled off his jeans, followed by his boxers. Y/n always thought about how big he was, but to now see it in person, made her mouth water. "Im gonna stretch you out realll good" Slowly beginning to insert his dick inside. A moan escaping your lips as you tried to fit him. "Oh baby, this is all you needed. You needed someone like me to come in, and stretch you out." He began to pickup the pace, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper each time. He couldnt help it, the times when the pants hugged your ass perfectly, or the times where your lips were just so kissable. He needed it to be his. He began to go rougher, the slapping and the groaning was making your head fuzzy. "Fucking you good, you cant think straight, hm?" He began to raise his voice. "This pussy was made for me, for me to stretch you out, and show you how good I can make you feel." You moaned at the feeling of his dick perfectly hitting your g-spot. He felt so good, and you needed this so bad.

"whos my good girl?" he repeated. all you could manage was moans. "fucked you so good, cant think straight, huh baby?" he said. making sure that you still were feeling good. "dean, im gonna- fuck, im gonna cum!" you stated, tears in your eyes as you began to get overstimulated. "me too baby." he replied, pacing himself as he came. followed by you right after. he pulled out, watching the cum ooze out of you. "no baby, you need to keep this in." he took his finger, pushing back inside you. now, you were beyond tired. you put your pants back on, your legs shaking. "dean, im gonna need help!" you said, he smirked, and picked you up. "cmon baby." he laughed, as you guys went into the bathroom. he cleaned you up, getting you into your comfortable clothes. laying you down, as you fell asleep in his arms. he ran his hands through your hair, holding you close. Sam pipes up and says "So, how did it go?" He says, smirking. Dean follows by a "Shut up." as he smiles and goes to sleep with you.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! this was my first smut book, and i did a light reading over to make sure it wasn't TERRIBLY bad with spelling! feedback is always recommended <3!