#they had some nasty fights before this season

[covid-safer-hotties]

also preserved on our archive

By Erica Sloan

These days, it’s tempting to compare COVID-19 with the common cold or flu. It can similarly leave you with a nasty cough, fever, sore throat—the full works of respiratory symptoms. And it’s also become a part of the societal fabric, perhaps something you’ve resigned yourself to catching at least a few times in your life (even if you haven’t already). But let’s not forget: SARS-CoV-2 (the virus responsible for COVID) is still relatively new, and researchers are actively investigating the toll of reinfection on the body. While there are still a lot of unknowns, one thing seems to be increasingly true: Getting COVID again and again is a good deal riskier than repeat hits of its seasonal counterparts.

It turns out, SARS-CoV-2 is more nefarious than these other contagious bugs, and our immune response to it, often larger and longer-lasting. COVID has a better ability to camouflage itself in the body, “and it has the keys to the kingdom in the sense that it can unlock any cell and get in,” says Esther Melamed, PhD, an assistant professor in the department of neurology at Dell Medical School, University of Texas Austin, and the research director of the Post-COVID-19 program at UT Health Austin. That’s because SARS-CoV-2 binds to ACE2 receptors, which exist in cells all over your body, from your heart to your gut to your brain. (By contrast, cold and flu viruses replicate mostly in your respiratory tract.)

It only follows that a bigger threat can trigger an outsize immune response. In some people, the body’s reaction to COVID can turn into a “cytokine storm,” Dr. Melamed tells SELF, which is characterized by an excessive release of inflammatory proteins that can wreak havoc on multiple organ systems—not a common scenario for your garden-variety cold or flu. But even a “mild” case of COVID can throw your immune system into a tizzy as it works to quickly shore up your defenses. And each reinfection is a fresh opportunity for the virus to win the battle.

While you develop some immunity after a COVID infection, it doesn’t just grow with each additional hit. You might be thinking, “Aren’t I more protected against COVID and less likely to have a serious case after having been infected?” Part of that is true, to an extent. In the first couple years after COVID burst onto the scene, reinfections were generally (though not always) milder than a person’s initial bout of the virus. “The way we understand classic immunology is that your body will say to a virus [it’s seen before], ‘Oh, I know how to deal with you, and I’m now going to deal with you in a better way the second time around,’” says Ziyad Al-Aly, PhD, a clinical epidemiologist at Washington University in St. Louis School of Medicine and the chief of research and development at the Veterans Affairs St. Louis Health Care System.

But any encounter with COVID can also cause your immune system to “go awry or develop some form of dysfunction,” Dr. Al-Aly tells SELF. Specifically, “immune imprinting” can happen, where, upon a second (or third or fourth) exposure to the virus, your immune cells launch the same response as they did for the initial infection, in turn blocking or limiting the development of new antibodies necessary to fight off the current variant that’s stirring up trouble. So, “when you get hit an [additional] time, your immune system may not behave classically,” Dr. Al-Aly says, and could struggle with mounting a good defense.

Pair that dip in immune efficiency with the fact that your antibody levels also wane with time post-infection, and it’s easy to see how another hit can rock your body in a new way. Indeed, the more time that passes after any given COVID infection, the less of a “competitive advantage” you’ll have against any future one, Richard Moffitt, PhD, an associate professor at Emory University, in Atlanta, tells SELF. His research found that, while people who got sick initially during the delta phase were less likely to get reinfected during the first omicron wave (as compared to folks who were infected in a prior period), that benefit leveled off with following omicron variants.

There’s also the fact that no matter how your immune system has responded to a prior strain (or strains!) of the virus, it could react differently to a new mutation. “We tend to think of COVID as one homogeneous thing, but it’s really not,” Dr. Al-Aly says. So even if your body successfully thwarted one of these intruders in the past, there’s no guarantee it’ll do the same for another, now or in the future, he says.

Getting COVID again and again is especially risky if it previously made you very ill. Dr. Moffitt’s study above also found that the “severity of your first infection is very predictive of the severity of a reinfection,” he says. Meaning, you’re more likely to have a severe case of COVID—for instance, requiring hospitalization or intensive care, such as ventilation—when reinfected if you had a rough go of it the first time around.

It’s possible that some folks are more prone to an off-kilter immune response to the virus, which could then happen consistently with reinfections. The antibodies created in people who’ve had severe cases “may not function as well as those in folks who’ve had mild infections or were able to fight the virus off,” Dr. Melamed says. Though researchers don’t fully understand why, some people’s immune systems are also more likely to overreact to COVID (remember the cytokine storm?), which can cause serious symptoms—like fluid in the lungs and shortness of breath—whenever they’re infected.

Being over the age of 65, having a chronic illness or other medical condition, and lacking access to health care have all been shown to spike your risk of serious outcomes with a COVID infection, whether it’s your first or fifth fight with the virus.

But you’re not home free if you’ve only had, say, a brief fever or cough with COVID in the past; Dr. Moffitt points out that a small subset of people in his research who had minor reactions with their initial infection went on to be hospitalized with a repeat hit. The probability of that might be lower, but it’s still a possibility, he says.

Even if you’ve only had “mild” cases, each reinfection strains your body, upping your chances of developing long COVID. A 2022 study led by Dr. Al-Aly found that COVID reinfections also increase your risk of complications across the board, regardless of whether you recovered just fine in the past or got vaccinated. In particular, it showed that reinfection raises the likelihood that you’ll need hospitalization; have heart or lung problems; or experience, among other possible issues, GI, neurological, mental health, or musculoskeletal symptoms. “We use the term ‘cumulative effects,’” Dr. Al-Aly says, “so, multiple hits accrue and then leave the body more vulnerable to all the potential long-term health effects of COVID.”

That doesn’t mean your experience of a second (or third or fourth) infection will necessarily be worse, in and of itself, than what you felt during a prior case. But with each new hit, a fresh batch of the virus seeps into your system, where, even if you have a mild case, it has another chance to trigger any of the longer-term complications above. While the likelihood of getting long COVID (a constellation of symptoms lingering for three months or longer post-infection) is likely greatest after initial infection, “The bottom line is, people are still getting diagnosed with long COVID after reinfection,” Dr. Moffitt says.

Researchers don’t totally know why one person might deal with lasting health effects over another, but it seems that, in some folks, the immune system misfires, generating not only antibodies to attack the virus but also autoantibodies that go after the body’s own healthy cells, Dr. Al-Aly says. This may be one reason why COVID has been linked to the onset of autoimmune conditions like psoriasis and rheumatoid arthritis.

A different hypothesis suggests that pieces of the virus could linger in the body, even after a person has seemingly “recovered” (reminder that SARS-CoV-2 is scarily good at weaseling its way into all sorts of cells). “Maybe the first time, your immune system was able to fully clear it, but the second time, it found a way to hang around,” Dr. Al-Aly posits. And a third theory involves your gut microbiome, the community of microbes in your GI tract, including beneficial bacteria. It’s conceivable that “when we get sick with COVID, these bacteria do, too, and perhaps they recover [on initial infection], but not on the second or third hit,” he says, throwing off your balance of good-to-bad gut bugs (which can impact your health in all sorts of ways).

Another unnerving possibility: The shock to your system triggered by COVID may “wake up” a latent (a.k.a. dormant) virus or two lurking in your body, Dr. Melamed says. We all carry anywhere from eight to 12 of these undetected bugs at a time—things like Epstein-Barr, varicella-zoster (which causes chickenpox and shingles), and herpes simplex. And research suggests their reactivation could be a contributing factor in long COVID. Separately, the systemic inflammation often created by COVID may spark the onset of high blood pressure and increased clotting (which can up your risk of stroke and pulmonary embolism), as well as type 2 diabetes, Dr. Melamed says.

There’s no guarantee that any given COVID infection snowballs into something debilitating, but each hit is like another round of Russian roulette, Dr. Al-Aly says. From a sheer numbers standpoint, the more times you play a game with the possibility of a negative outcome, the greater your chances are of that bad result occurring. And because every COVID case has at least some potential to leave you very ill or dealing with a host of persistent symptoms, why take the risk any more times than you need to?

Bottom line: You should do your best to avoid COVID reinfection and bolster your defenses against the virus. At this stage of the pandemic’s progression, it’s not realistic to suggest you can avoid any exposure to the virus, given that societal protections against its spread have been rolled back. But what you should do is take some common-sense precautions, which can help you avoid any contagious respiratory virus. (A cold or the flu may not pose as many potential health risks as COVID, but being sick is still not fun!)

It’s a good idea to wear a mask when you’re in a crowded environment (especially indoors), choose well-ventilated or outdoor spaces for group hangouts, and test for COVID if you have cold or flu-like symptoms, Dr. Al-Aly says. If you do get infected, talk to your doctor about whether your personal risk of a severe case is enough to qualify for a Paxlovid prescription (which you need to take within the first five days of symptoms for it to be effective).

The other important thing you should do is get the updated COVID vaccine (the 2024-2025 formula was recently approved and released). Unlike getting reinfected, the vaccine triggers “a very targeted immune response…because it’s [made with] a specific tiny part of the virus,” Dr. Melamed says. Meaning, you get the immune benefit of a little exposure without the potential of your whole system going haywire. Getting the current shot also ensures you restore any protection that has waned since you received a prior jab and that you have an effective shield against the dominant circulating strains. Plus, research shows that being vaccinated doesn’t just lower your chances of catching the virus; it also reduces your risk of having a severe case or winding up with long COVID if you do get it.

So, too, can the deceivingly simple act of keeping up with healthy habits—like exercising regularly, eating nutritious foods, and clocking quality sleep. Maintaining this kind of lifestyle can help you stave off other health issues that could increase your risk of harm from COVID, Harlan Krumholz, PhD, a cardiologist at Yale University and founder of the Yale Center for Outcomes Research and Evaluation (CORE), tells SELF. “Given that we will be repetitively exposed to the virus, the best investments we can make are in our baseline health,” he says.

Doing any (or all!) of the above is a big act of compassion for yourself, the people you love, and your greater community. “For the average person, it’s like, ‘Oh, COVID is gone,’ but they’re just not seeing the impact,” Dr. Al-Aly says, noting the invisibility of long COVID symptoms like disorienting brain fog and crushing fatigue. The truth is, in plenty of people, just one more infection could be the difference between living their best life and facing a devastating chronic condition.

[cawnecny]

Seeler and dlo friendship I need more of that

[lokissweater]

talk baby ⋆｡°✩

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.

word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)

authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33

i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!

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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.

“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”

“mhm.”

“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”

megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.

“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”

megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”

you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”

tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.

you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.

“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”

“uh uh.” megumi hummed.

he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.

“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”

“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”

“no.”

“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.

“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.

“but i have class tomorrow.”

“i’ll take you.”

“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”

“don’t care.”

you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”

he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.

your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.

you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.

and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.

and especially if it was for the world series.

“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.

you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.

it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.

and you adored the way that it played out.

megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.

the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.

and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.

“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.

“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”

“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”

you gnawed at your bottom lip.

it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.

“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”

you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”

“you mean the day he ate you out in—”

“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.

she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”

you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”

you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.

but you’ve definitely done other things though.

megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.

you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.

because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—

“break!”

you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.

both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.

upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.

“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.

“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”

you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.

yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”

megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.

“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.

“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.

“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”

he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.

you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.

in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.

but what if this year was different?

“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”

he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.

“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”

megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”

your eyes softened.

“what do you mean?”

“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”

“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”

he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”

“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.

he nodded.

“what’s the reason behind that?”

megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”

you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”

his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.

“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.

“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”

you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”

megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”

“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”

“i’ll take you after practice.”

“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”

“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.

“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”

you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.

“i love you too.”

thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.

and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.

“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”

“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”

you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.

“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”

he smiled. “touché.”

he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.

and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.

“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”

“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”

“why.”

“because you need to sleep—”

“no.”

“megumi—”

he shot you a glare and you squeaked.

“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”

he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.

you giggled softly.

“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”

“oh my—”

you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.

“you still have child lock on?!”

megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.

“uh huh.”

“why?!”

he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”

“gumi if you hate me just say that.”

pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.

“be quiet.”

the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…

“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”

megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.

“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”

“not if they don’t notice.”

megumi gave you an amused smile.

“i’ll take one for you too!”

“for me?”

“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.

“i’d do anything for you.”

his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.

megumi would do anything for you.

“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.

“great! so can i do it?”

“no.”

“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”

he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.

he swallowed.

“gojo wants to meet you.”

you froze. “really? he does?”

megumi nodded.

“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”

“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”

you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”

megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.

he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”

“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”

megumi quirked a brow. “but?”

“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”

his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”

“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”

“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”

megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.

you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.

“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”

the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.

“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”

“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”

he loved it.

the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.

“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.

“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”

he looked at you boredly.

“no.”

“guumiii!”

he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.

“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”

“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”

you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.

“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”

“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.

you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”

he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.

“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”

he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.

you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.

the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—

but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.

he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.

except you got nothing.

you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.

just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.

megumi!

“hel—”

“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”

“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.

“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”

you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.

“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”

“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”

“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”

“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”

“shit! i know i know—”

“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”

“okay.. fuck okay okay—”

you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.

“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”

and the line went dead.

you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.

your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.

“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”

you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.

“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”

you laughed loudly.

“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”

“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”

you stopped.

“what do you mean?”

she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”

she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”

“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”

she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”

“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”

“at the start of last week.”

“oh my god.” you grumbled.

why didn’t he tell you?

“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”

“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”

and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.

your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.

“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”

once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.

you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.

“hey! you guys!”

you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.

“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”

“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.

you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.

the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.

the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.

“let’s play ball!”

the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.

as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.

and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.

“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”

the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.

the bags under his eyes…

you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…

“and the pitcher throws….”

hit!

“strike one!”

megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”

for the first time?

you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”

she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.

“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”

megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.

“and the pitcher throws again…”

hit!

“strike two!”

“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.

“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”

“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”

you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.

“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”

megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.

cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.

megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.

“and the pitcher throws…”

hit!

“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”

the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—

and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.

you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.

as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.

“gumi!”

he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.

“good job good job! you did so amazing!”

“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”

“i missed the first two hits.”

he set you back down.

yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”

megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.

and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.

“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes remained glued to the dirt.

“i missed the first two hits.”

your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”

“we were on thin fucking ice today.”

his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.

“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”

he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.

“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”

“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”

his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”

“what is your issue?—”

“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”

“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”

“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.

you froze.

“nagged?” you repeated softly.

“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”

“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”

“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”

“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”

“stop talking.”

you paused.

“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”

stop… talking?

he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.

thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?

tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.

“baby—”

“and what about you?”

he stopped. “about me—”

“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”

“no i—”

you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”

“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”

he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”

megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.

“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”

surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”

“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”

he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.

“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”

“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”

“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.

“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”

he really struck a chord.

“y/n—”

“bye megumi.”

his breath hitched.

“no— hey don’t do that—”

he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.

“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”

“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.

god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.

“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”

“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”

he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.

“o—okay.”

he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.

that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.

and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.

(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.

megumi took no time at all to respond.

(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?

(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea

he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.

but you only kept crying.

(gumi <3): okay

(you): goodnight

(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby

just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.

(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry

you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.

the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.

you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.

you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.

so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.

but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.

and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.

and he missed you. more than anything.

“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—

“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”

yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.

he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.

“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”

“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”

“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”

yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.

“fuck me…”

“yeah fuck you—”

“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.

he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”

“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.

“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”

he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.

your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.

“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”

megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.

“you okay man?”

he nodded again.

missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.

and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.

luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.

and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.

you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.

you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.

and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—

finalizing their spot in the world series.

your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.

“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”

you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.

“oh! yeah i am!”

“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”

“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”

“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”

what.

“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”

“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.

he still hadn’t let go.

“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”

he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”

“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”

his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”

“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.

“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”

you scoffed.

“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”

“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.

“let go of me!—”

megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.

he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.

but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.

and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?

he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.

megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.

“get the fuck off.”

he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.

“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.

“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”

“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”

“megumi please—”

“are you part of the crew?”

“y—yeah?”

“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”

“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”

megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.

“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”

megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.

“get the fuck out of my way.”

the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.

he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.

“hey are you okay? are you fine?”

megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.

“he’s gone he’s gone—”

you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.

“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.

megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.

“y/n.”

“hm?”

he frowned.

“can you please look at me.”

you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.

he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”

you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.

he leaned down to look at you at eye level.

“are you okay?”

you nodded again and sniffled.

“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”

you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.

“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”

“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”

“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”

“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”

you nodded.

“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”

your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”

“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”

you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.

“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”

“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”

“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”

“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”

he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.

“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.

he could finally breathe.

“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.

you nodded.

“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”

“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”

“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”

you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”

his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.

he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.

love for you. love for who you are.

megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.

“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.

“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.

he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.

and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.

he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.

you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.

“baby...” he murmured.

“hm?”

“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”

a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.

“is that okay—”

“more than okay—”

you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.

he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.

he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.

you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.

he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.

“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”

“nope.”

megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.

“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.

he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.

“g—gumiii..” you whined.

“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.

“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.

“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”

he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.

“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”

“i—“ hic! “i love you—”

megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.

“how much.”

“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”

“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”

slap slap slap—

“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”

you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.

“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”

you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.

he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.

“answer me.”

thrust thrust thrust—

“n—no i didn’t!”

“no?”

he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.

“m’gonna cum inside.”

“in— mmphf!— inside?”

“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”

“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.

“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”

hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.

he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.

you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.

“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.

he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”

“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”

megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.

“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”

“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.

“yeah.”

finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.

and eventually, the world series arrived.

“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”

you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.

your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”

“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”

you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”

the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.

you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.

and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.

eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.

“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”

your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.

but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.

your eyes trailed to the ground.

megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.

your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”

as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.

hit!

your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.

“bring it home fushiguro!”

several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—

a grand slam.

and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.

except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.

now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.

so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—

you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.

you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.

you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.

he pulled back, panting.

“did you see how i did a grand slam?”

you nodded rapidly.

“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”

oh my god.

he still remembered when you told him that?

“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.

megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.

but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.

megumi only wanted to believe in you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

@cupcaketeddybehr @soobiary @roachfun @waterfal-ling @saebaey @hiraethwa @luvvmae @cake-with-the-cream @pixie-dix @vividl3ss

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I almost killed your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich]- Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After the unexpected encounter with Soap and Ghost, your shop finally owns the vibes of peace.

The customers become so ‘normal’, almost feels like you aren’t in the same area as before – if you ignore the blood on their shirts or recall the memory of seeing them punching someone across the street. You assume the men must tell them to behave in your shop, but you must say the minions become a bit overreacting. They call you ma'am, chat as quietly as possible, and one of them even apologizes when he accidentally touches your finger as if you will chop off his pinky. You start doubting if they view you as a secret henchman of 141.

It’s morning now, the shop usually has more people at this time, but you haven’t had a single customer since you opened it 30 minutes ago, they just vanished without any hint, hence you start testing out new recipes for your bread.

Lilting the song that’s fully out of tune, you slice the bread you just baked into pieces, and throw one into your mouth. Perfectly crunchy outside, fluffy like clouds inside. Oh my, you’re such a genius.

You’re totally unaware of your visitor until he stirs the air with a cough and his voice.

“Pardon me?” He calls you again, but you’re left in a trance when you land your eyes on him.

Damn, he looks just like your imagination of the man in the Dilf next door fic you just read yesterday on co5. Your eyes travel from his well-trim beard, south to his belted waist. Why does a man with a toned body – which his khaki coat can’t even hide –  have such a tiny waist? Your mouth's agape at the sight as you’re about to respond.

“mmsadjsmm” The man raises his eyebrow in confusion, and you hear your voice not forming a proper sentence too. Ah, you forgot the bread’s still stuffed in your mouth.

“ehemm, Sorry Sir, I mean what would you like to have?” Quickly swallow the bread and try to pretend you didn’t just dumbfounded in front of him, you speak again.

“English breakfast, please.” He croons with an infatuating smile as he saunters to take a seat. 

His voice is quite soothing, you admit in your mind as you start brewing said man’s tea, just like you presumed the Dilf in the fic… okay, you really should clear those nasty brainrots during work.

The tea is nicely served in the tea cup and brought to the man shortly after.

You can’t help the smile crawling onto your face when you see him grin at you after a sip. You love watching your customer enjoy your tea, and he obviously relaxes with it have you bask in your achievements.

“Don’t finish your breakfast?”

“Just trying a new recipe. I want to add it to my menu.” you reply with a shake of your head, and after a brief halt, you add a question “ Have you eaten breakfast yet, Sir”

“Call me John, love.” The man – John sets his cup on the table before continuing “And no, I haven’t”

“Then… would you like to have a grilled cheese sandwich? I can’t finish the bread myself, it would be great if someone could help me with it... Of course, it isn’t a must!" You hurriedly complement when John widens his eyes slightly at your suggestion, but he meets your eyes with interest within.

”I would love to.”

You beam up as you get the affirmation, and walk behind your counter again.

Slices of bread are already prepared. The pro tip for a delicious grilled cheese sandwich is giving the bread some nice seasoning first, so you pick up your black pepper jar before inquiring about John’s preference.

“How much pepper would you like, John?”

“Would be great if it’s more.”

“Alright.”

You turn back to season the bread, but when you pick up the pepper jar and about to shake it, a question slips into your brain making you pause.

How much is “more”?

The man doesn't have time to sit here and wait for you to contemplate the philosophy of seasoning, so after biting your bottom lip and thinking for 30 seconds, you shake the jar. More is better, you recall what John told you as your hand keeps moving.

You shake it 10 times, since more is better.

Apart from the bread, you hold full confidence in your grilled cheese sandwich. Placing generous amounts of cheese in between, the coveted smell flooded your little shop as you plate the well-toasted sandwich.

“It surely smells great.” John praises before diving in.

You hang a big expecting grin until John takes a bite and starts coughing like you will put him into the ER with a sandwich.

“It’s– it’s okay…love…” He tries to comfort you when you apologize abundantly and rush back to your counter to fill him a cup of water. Holy, isn’t more pepper better? Now you're going to send the man to heaven with a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Here’s water!” You go back to John as fast as you can with the cold water in your hand, you’re busy checking out John, who stops coughing madly but cheeks pink with the spices, and you don’t see the leg of the chair sticking out of its usual place.

A pair of arms catch you from slamming onto the floor, but the cup isn’t that lucky as it flies with Newton’s help and clatters on the floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You stabilize yourself in John’s support. But wow,  now the man not only just recovered from a fatal attack to his throat, but also has a wet spot spreading along the chest part of his shirt.

“No worries, love. It’s just a shirt.”

Even though John attempts to calm you, you still can’t help the sheepishness creep to your cheeks and stain it with the same pink as John’s, or stop thinking about if the balance in your bank account is able to buy the man a new shirt. You remember you wanted to get some cash out of the cashpoint but it shoved an ‘insufficient funds :(‘ into your face.

You really don’t want any customers to come in right now, even if it means your little tea shop will close down because you only have one from the start of today, but fate always gifts you things you crave when you don’t need them.

“Sorry boss, I’m late.”

You look at the tan-skinned man standing like a model just escaped from his manager, staring at you shoving a towel on John’s chest and both of your cheeks smeared with suspicious red.

“What happened?”

I almost murdered your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich. Apparently, you can’t answer with this, so you face John for help.

and he’s looking at you too, with a sly smirk awaiting your explanation.

You wonder if you can just make two sandwiches to shut these men up, with one more for yourself to end this predicament now.

a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!

No John Price is harmed in this chapter.

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143

[pucksandpower]

Hey Natalia, hope you’re doing good ❤️ Please could I request enemies to lovers with Max. You’re constantly at each other’s throats in front of everyone and Christian has had enough of your shit and demands to see you in the office. But when you continue to fight, he’s like nah I don’t wanna be involved, sort your shit out together and leaves. And you end up fucking on his desk and after you’re suddenly super friendly around eachother. Thank you lovely! xxx

Whiplash

Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader

Summary: You and Max discover that there is a thin line between lust and hate

Warnings: 18+ content

You storm into Christian’s office, scowling as Max follows right behind you. He slams the door shut and you both take a seat across from Christian, refusing to even look at each other.

“I’m sure you both know why I called you in here,” Christian says sternly. “The tension between you two has gone too far. It’s affecting the team and we can’t have that.”

You scoff and cross your arms. “Why don’t you talk to him about it then? I’m not the problem here.”

Max scowls. “Oh please, don’t pretend like you’re so innocent. You’ve been nothing but hostile towards me since the start of the season.”

“Only because you did the same!” You retort. “I was nothing but nice when I first joined the team. You’re the one with the attitude problem.”

“Enough!” Christian shouts, silencing you both. “I don’t care who started it. I’m ending it. We’re in the middle of a championship fight and I need my drivers to work together, not against each other.”

You sink lower in your chair, still refusing to look at Max. The animosity radiates off of him in waves.

“Now you’re going to stay in here until you work this out,” Christian says firmly. “I don’t care if it takes all night. Fix this mess or both of your seats are on the line.”

He heads for the door and you spring up from your chair. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” Christian replies before shutting the door. You hear the lock click into place from the outside.

You jiggle the handle and pound on the door. “Let us out!”

No response.

He’s really done it, that bastard. Locked you in a room alone with your most hated rival.

You take a deep breath before turning around. Max sits there glaring at you, jaw clenched. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters.

“For once we agree on something,” you snap.

His glare hardens. “Don’t pretend you’re blameless. You’ve been nasty since you got here.”

You storm over to him. “Because you decided to hate me from day one! I tried to be nice but you were so damn hostile. What’s your problem with me anyway?”

Max stands up abruptly, getting in your face. “My problem is you waltzing in here like you own the place when I’m the number one driver.”

You shove him in the chest. “Get over yourself! I earned my spot here.”

He shoves you back. “You don’t deserve to be here.”

Your blood boils as you stare him down. God he’s infuriating. And stubborn as hell. You doubt you’ll ever get him to admit any fault in this situation.

“Well I’m not going anywhere so I guess you’ll just have to get used to it,” you snap.

Max steps even closer, eyes blazing. Your noses nearly touch from how close he stands. “Is that so?” His voice comes out low, almost husky.

A shiver runs down your spine but you keep glaring at him. “Yeah, that’s so.”

You expect him to shoot back some nasty retort. Instead his eyes flick down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your heated gaze again.

Suddenly the energy shifts between you. The anger and tension remains but it transforms into something more primal. More dangerous.

Your breaths come heavier as electricity crackles in the nonexistent space left between you. Max’s pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as your own.

“I ...” Your voice comes out hoarse. “We should ...”

But neither of you make any move to step away. Without thinking your tongue darts out to wet your dry lips. Max tracks the movement with his intense stare.

“Fuck it,” he growls before crashing his mouth onto yours.

You gasp into the kiss and he takes advantage, deepening it. His hands grasp your hips roughly as he walks you backwards until your back hits the wall.

You barely process what’s happening. One second you were at each other’s throats, the next his body is pressing urgently against yours.

A moan escapes you when his lips move to your neck. He nips at the sensitive skin there and you thread your fingers into his hair.

“This is insane,” you pant out even as you tug him closer.

“I know,” Max breathes against your neck. His hands skim up your sides, pushing up your shirt. “I hate you.”

“I hate you more.” You crash your lips together again, tasting blood when you nip at him.

Max groans into your mouth as your tongues slide together. He hitches one of your legs around his hip, grinding against you.

You break the kiss to tip your head back, moaning at the feeling. Fuck, you despise this man, but right now you need him more than anything.

His hips keep up that delicious friction as he mouths at your collarbone. “I’m still going to beat you,” he rasps out.

You smirk, nails digging into his shoulders. “In your dreams.”

Max’s eyes darken at your taunt. Without warning, he grips your thighs and lifts you onto Christian’s desk. You gasp as he pushes between your legs, his growing arousal obvious.

“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before crushing his mouth to yours once more.

You moan into the frenzied kiss, tongues tangling as you tug at his hair. His hands slide up your thighs, fumbling with the button of your jeans to push them down around your ankles. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him against your heated core.

Even through the layers of clothing you can feel how hard he is. You rock your hips, desperate for more friction. Max groans and moves his lips to your neck, nipping down to your collarbone.

Your head tips back as his fingers dance up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “God, I hate you so much,” you moan.

“I know.” His voice comes out rough, filled with lust.

Impatient, you reach for the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head, tossing it aside. Your eyes rake over his muscular chest and arms. Unable to resist, you lean in and scrape your teeth over his nipple.

Max hisses in a breath, hands clenching on your hips. “Fuck ...”

You grin, laving your tongue over the sensitive nub as your fingers move to his belt buckle. With shaky hands you get it open and reach into his boxers, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

He shudders against you. “Shit, Y/N ...”

You stroke him firmly, reveling in the moans and curses falling from his lips. His own hands move under your shirt, palming your breasts through your bra.

It’s not enough. You strip off your shirt and reach back to unclasp your bra. Max wastes no time dipping his head to capture one of your nipples between his lips.

“Oh god ...” you gasp, back arching into him. His teeth and tongue work over your sensitive peaks until you’re writhing beneath him.

The sound of voices outside the door makes you both freeze. Fuck. The race weekend is still going on around you. Anyone could walk by and hear what’s happening.

You meet Max’s heated gaze. “We should stop,” you pant out half-heartedly.

His eyes blaze with defiance and lust. “No fucking way.”

Before you can react he drops to his knees, grasping your hips to pull you towards the edge of the desk.

Max tugs strongly on your lacy underwear until it gives way at the seams, baring you to him. He pauses to appreciate the view, eyes roaming hungrily over your glistening folds.

“I’m still going to beat you tomorrow,” he rasps.

You tug on his hair impatiently. “Just get on with it before we get caught.”

With a wicked grin he dives in, mouth latching onto your throbbing clit. You cry out, quickly slapping a hand over your own mouth.

You fumble with his belt, desperate to feel him. Max groans as you wrap your hand around his length.

“Fuck, just like that,” he groans against your skin, increasing the rhythm of his tongue in response. The desk rocks dangerously beneath you but neither of you slow your ministrations.

You whimper his name, pleasure building steadily under his expert touch. The fingers of one hand twist in his hair while you keep your other hand moving up and down in measured strokes as you near the edge.

“Look at me,” Max commands raggedly. You open your eyes to meet his wild gaze. The connection between you crackles.

“Max ...” you gasp as your climax crashes over you. You slap a hand over your lips, muffling your cries.

As you float back down, Max withdraws his mouth. You keen at the loss but then he’s lining himself up at your entrance. Gripping your hip tightly, he pushes inside in one smooth motion.

You cling to his shoulders, nails digging in as you adjust around him. Max trembles with restraint, giving you a moment before he starts to move.

Then he sets a relentless pace, the desk slamming against the wall with each powerful snap of his hips. You wrap your legs around him, spurring him even deeper.

Max pounds into you relentlessly, wrenching desperate moans from your lips. You’re vaguely aware of picture frames and papers tumbling to the floor around you but the chaos only adds to the thrill.

You’re close, the pressure building deep inside. With a few more well-angled thrusts you topple over the edge, coming hard around him. Your breasts bounce as your back arches sharply off the desk.

“There you go, princess,” Max rasps. He continues driving into your spasming center until his rhythm turns choppy and erratic.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Max grits out. You clench around him, greedy for his release. His hips stutter and then he spills inside you with a guttural groan. The sensation pushes you over the edge again, your vision whiting out from the intensity.

Breathing raggedly, Max collapses on top of you, pinning you to the desk. You’re both slick with sweat and utterly spent, your heart rates slowly returning to normal. You run your fingers through his damp waves soothingly.

The room is silent save for your heavy breathing. As the haze of lust clears, the ramifications of what just happened settle over you.

You just slept with your sworn rival on your team principal’s desk.

After a long moment Max pulls out of you and steps back, tucking himself away. On shaky legs you slide off the desk, stumbling slightly as you find your feet, and rush to put on your clothes.

Max grabs his shirt off the floor and shrugs back into it. His hair is mussed wildly and his lips are kiss-swollen. You’re sure you look much the same.

You and Max spring apart at the sound of the lock clicking open. Christian strides back into his office, oblivious to the disheveled state that both of his drivers are in.

“Well, have you two worked out your differences?” He looks between you expectantly.

You smooth down your rumpled shirt and attempt to tuck your wild hair back into place. Your cheeks flame as you meet Christian’s gaze.

“I think we’ve come to an ... understanding,” Max says evenly, though you notice a hint of color in his cheeks as well.

Christian surveys his office, taking in the askew trophies and books scattered across the floor. You hold your breath, certain he’s going to put two and two together.

“It seems you had a disagreement about reorganizing my office during your chat,” Christian says wryly.

You nearly choke in surprise. Does he really not realize what just transpired on his desk? You chance a glance at Max and have to suppress a hysterical giggle at the disbelief on his face.

“I apologize for the mess, we got a bit ... heated,” you say, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the double meaning.

“Yes, clearly things escalated between you two.” Christian frowns at a photo of him and Dietrich Mateschitz now lying cracked on the floor. You resist the urge to shrink under his disappointed dad stare.

“However, the important thing is you’ve worked through this animosity once and for all, correct?” He looks between you expectantly.

You and Max nod in unison. “Water under the bridge,” Max assures him. You’re impressed by how steady he manages to keep his voice even as you can see the barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

“Excellent. I’ll inform the team that tensions are resolved and they can stop walking on eggshells around the both of you.” Christian claps his hands together, apparently satisfied. “Now get out of here and get ready for free practice.”

You and Max don’t need telling twice. As soon as the door shuts behind you, the laughter you’ve been holding in bubbles out.

“I can’t believe he actually bought that,” Max says between chuckles.

“We literally destroyed his office and he thinks we just had a minor spat,” you giggle, shaking your head incredulously.

Your laughter trails off as the reality of what happened sinks in. You just had crazy hot sex with Max Verstappen. Where do you go from here?

Before you can overthink it, Max presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Meet me at the hotel tonight? We should continue this conversation somewhere more private,” he murmurs suggestively.

You bite your lip but find yourself nodding. As complicated and ill-advised as this may be, you can’t find it in yourself to deny your attraction to Max now that you’ve given in to it.

“It’s a date,” you whisper back.

Max grins and steals another quick kiss before you part ways to get changed.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (19/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: There's so much going on in Charles' brain, but having to come clean with his feelings is the hardest.

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of fingering, masturbating), angst, swear words, Lando being a little shit

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: sorry. and happy season finale. let’s hope for a better 2024.

Charles has never been so happy about a pot of plants. 

After you slammed the door in his face, he barely made it to the street before throwing up in the nearest plant pot. His fingers clawed around the hard ceramic edges as his body struggled against the nasty words he spat at you. 

He doesn't even know why he was so mean to you. 

Was it because you had a wonderful evening last night? Because you two got so close that you both almost kissed? Because you fell asleep next to each other and he slept incredibly well? Or because Lando texted him in the middle of the night and asked what your favorite food was so that he could do everything right on your date?

Maybe he does know why he was so mean to you. 

"Charles? Concentrate, please," he is snapped out of his thoughts and Charles sits up a little straighter in his chair. He can feel something crack in his spine.

The meeting has been going on for hours. So long, in fact, that the private chefs in Maranello have already had to bring food to the room four times, with the last meal being dinner. Charles has eaten so much pasta and bruschetta that he feels sick just looking at the leftovers on the table in front of him. And the water with the slice of lemon in the glass in front of him no longer tastes very refreshing.

No matter what he eats or drinks, he can't get rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth. 

He wonders if your "I hate you" is as heavy on your stomach as the nasty words are on his. He would love to take back everything he spat in your face. Turn back time and undo everything. But he can't do that. Unfortunately. 

He'd love to bang his head on the tabletop. 

In fact, he can barely remember what he said. It's as if his brain short circuited, has had some kind of blackout, or as if a bomb has gone off and wiped everything out. Which doesn't excuse any of it. But from your hurt look, the tears in your eyes and your venomous response, it was so unacceptable that he'd like to slap himself for it. 

It wasn't the first time Lando had asked Charles for dating help and they are actually such good friends that Charles has always been happy to help him. But the fact that the Brit asked for help so that he could take you out nicely - that doesn't sit right with him. Which is complete nonsense, because he has no reason to. He has no claim of ownership over you. And besides, he didn't want to kiss you in the bookstore. 

Although that's not entirely true either.

He did want to kiss you. Desperately. And you'd been so close all day, you'd shown him your favorite place and everything had pointed to you wanting to make the move to something more - and then you gave him that look when he asked you for a dance. And he can understand why you didn't want to. After all, it's your place, your favorite place, and never would Charles do anything to tarnish that place in any way. Create a memory that you would later regret. 

The Petit Mondes is your safe haven. And as much as Charles wants you - and he definitely does - he wouldn't cross that line.

Since you've known each other, Charles has had to fight every waking - and to be honest, every sleeping - moment not to jump you. He can't stop thinking about you standing in front of him half-naked in a towel. Or how you turned around just a few steps away from him before dinner with his friends to show him your outfit. How you slept next to him and dreamt - dreamt of him. A moment he will never forget. 

Although he is actually a late riser, Charles woke up early that morning. Not because he had slept in, but because he was warm. Contrary to his expectations, it wasn't because of the comforter or the heating, but because you were lying half on top of him. Your head was resting against his shirt-clad chest, one of your legs was draped over his hip, while your arm was wrapped around his middle. 

At first, he didn't understand what was going on at all. He wanted to lift his arm to rub the sleep from his eyes, but he was met with resistance in the form of a lightly clad, sleeping beauty. His arm was wrapped around your waist, his hand was a little too high on your ribs to pass for being friendly, and by God - he hadn't felt this comfortable in ages.

Feeling your closeness had triggered something in him that confused him, but at the same time made him incredibly relaxed. He had pulled you closer to him, pressed you against him and enjoyed your warmth. For a moment, he had even considered whether he should just pull you all over him so that he could be as close to you as possible. 

Before he could think about how wrong that would be and how many boundaries he would be crossing, you had turned in his arms so that your back was against his chest. Your body molded perfectly against his, your warmth engulfing him, but nothing could have prepared him for the fact that you were going to move your butt a little in his direction, right up against his crotch. 

Charles had been awake in a flash and while you continued to sleep soundly, all the blood from his brain had rushed to his dick. Embarrassed, he'd squinted and focused on something else - Ferrari strategies, Joris last Christmas with the Leclercs, anything - and had scooted back a few inches to stick his hand down his pants so he could fix his raging boner.

But alas, you'd followed him like a magnet, squirming against him like you knew exactly what you were doing, so that his cock was wedged between your ass cheeks. Your body had been so warm, so soft against his hard one, that he had to stifle a moan.

Something you hadn't been able to do. If you hadn't been so close to him, he would have missed your soft gasp of his name. That's when he blew a fuse.

He would have loved to wake you up with kisses along your neck, let his fingers wander slowly over your skin until they finally disappeared into your panties. He would have let them glide through your folds and collect your wetness before gently rubbing your bundle of nerves. You would have turned to him and moaned into his mouth as he slid one of his fingers into your tight walls.

He'd never escaped his bedroom so quickly and quietly and jumped into the freezing cold shower.

The water felt like fine pinpricks as it splashed down on his burning hot skin, but no matter how cold he turned it on - his cock stood angry and proud. He put his head back in despair, his brain vehemently refusing to see his friend in this light, to desire you like this. But before he could do anything about it, his fingers had wrapped themselves around his aching cock. His imagination ran away with him, too many images popped up in his mind's eye as he squeezed it twice in the hope of relieving some tension. But the only thing it triggered was the feeling of a moment ago, when his cock was against your ass. 

He was almost ashamed of how quickly he came. 

He just hoped you didn't notice when he came back into the bedroom and woke you up with it. He had thought about lying back next to you, but had decided on the foot of the bed to create some distance. 

The fact that you were dreaming about him threw him off course. And he'd really wanted to kiss you - by God, he'd wanted to do even kinkier things to you - but the timing never seemed right. 

And then Lando's message came.

The vibration in his pocket brings him back to the present. Charles takes a quick look around to make sure he's not the center of the conversation, then glances at his phone. 

Lando: You need to come home now.

He looks at the screen, confused. Why the hell is Lando texting him? Lando of all people? Did you tell him all the things Charles threw at you? How badly he treated you? 

Charles: I'm in Maranello. 

If you really did confide in Lando, his answer sounds pathetic. Why else would Lando text him? His friend certainly knows that Charles screwed up. And also that you want to move out of the apartment. But does the Brit really believe that Charles could change your mind when he's the reason you're moving out?

Lando's answer comes immediately.

Lando: I don't care. Get your ass over here. 

The Monegasque turns on the keypad lock on his cell phone and places it on the table in front of him. It wouldn't make any difference if he went home now and tried to change your mind. What could happen is that his presence would only strengthen your decision to move out. Besides, he doesn't know how he's ever going to face you again. 

Before he can think about it, his cell phone starts ringing. The eyes of his co-workers land on him and he apologizes with a quiet "mi dispiace" before leaving the meeting, phone in hand. Out in the corridor, he doesn't even need to look at the screen to know who is calling. 

"If you don't go back to Monaco immediately, I'll come to Italy myself to get you," Lando snaps at him and Charles has to hold the receiver away from his ear to stop his eardrums from bursting.

"Hi, Lando."

"Don't give me 'Hi, Lando'. Get your fucking ass over here."

Charles rubs his forehead before running his whole hand over his face. "I can't just leave here."

"Don't talk shit like that. We both know you're not up for the meeting," the Brit replies bitchily. "Don't act like you don't have a choice."

The Monegasque rolls his eyes. "What do you want to hear from me now, Lando?"

The answer comes like a shot from a gun. "I want to know what you've been up to! Are you completely stupid?"

Charles would like to know the answer too.

"You go home right now, explain your shitty behaviour and apologize."

"And you're interfering because...?" His tone is cold. 

"Because I was in your apartment all evening and had to watch how devastated Y/N was. I'd love to kill you for it."

"Go ahead and do it. She sure as hell wouldn't mind."

He swears he hears Lando take a deep breath on the other end of the line. 

"I'm going to tell you this once. Just once, Charles. And I'm saying this for her sake, because I still have hope that you're the person I was praising to her."

Praising? If you've told Lando everything, then you've certainly told Charles everything about the Brit. That he just wants to get you into bed. So why would Lando want to help him?

"What you did was absolute bullshit, Charles. Totally below the belt and you've never acted as fucking shit as you just did."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Is there anything positive coming?"

"Shut up, you idiot. I don't know what you've done in the few days you've known each other to make her so crazy about you, but I don't have to. Any blind man can see there's something between you. Something good. So go home now and save what can be saved before she really decides to leave the country."

Charles, who had just been leaning against the wall, stands up straight. "The country? I thought she just wanted to move out."

"She's been thinking about it, asshole. United States, Australia. Something really far away from you."

"But she has her job here, at that one magazine. There's no way she'd leave like that."

"She got fired, motherfucker. Before you made your weird deal. Nothing's keeping her here anymore. So get your ass over here now before she really decides to take off."

How could Charles be so blind? He knows the magazine, his mom reads it occasionally and he actually knows that a new issue comes out every week. You've known each other for five days - five days that you've spent entirely with him. Something that would definitely not be possible with such a full-time job. 

"And what do you want from me now? That I drop everything to go home even though she doesn't want to see me?"

"I've never seen anyone as stupid as you."

"Can you stop with the insults?" Charles snaps through the phone. 

"You have nothing to say to me, you arsehole. She told me what you said about me. You owe it to us to go off and try to make things right." 

Charles can't help but laugh. "Us? So you two are already an us?" He doesn't know why he's talking to one of his closest friends like this. Especially when the latter only wants to help put things right that Charles has messed up. The Monegasque has no reason to be angry. But the disgusting taste in his mouth, which he hasn't been able to get rid of for hours, is not anger. Unfortunately, he only realizes it now.

He's fucking jealous. And he can't do anything about it.

"We're friends, but apparently you don't know what the word stands for," Lando replies snippily. "Go home, explain to her why you behaved so badly and apologize to her." His voice softens, warmer than it has been throughout the phone call. "Charles, I know you're being careful because you're afraid of getting hurt again. And I can understand that, I really can." He takes a deep breath. "But it's Y/N we're talking about here. Sit down and talk to each other, be honest, and then it'll all work out."

Charles' gaze wanders to the huge Ferrari logo hanging on the wall next to him and his bad guilt returns. You don't even know who he is. To you, he's Charles, the roommate who shows you beautiful places, introduces you to his friends and with whom you share a bed. You are the only person who knows him as Charles and not as Charles Leclerc.

What would you think of him if the cat was out of the bag? When you see who he really is, including the spotlight? What happens if you like Charles, but not Charles Leclerc? He doesn't know if he could handle it. His job is his life, he's on the road all year round and what little time he has he has to divide between friends and family. 

That's why his relationship with Annika failed. She was right about what she threw at him. That you always have to wait for him and that it's not fair. And she knew what she was getting into from the start. But you don't. You would be thrown in at the deep end if you decided to go for it. If you chose him.

"I don't think it's that easy," Charles says quietly, and he has to suppress the tremor in his voice. "She - she doesn't deserve this life. This risk. She - she," he takes a deep breath and has to wipe away the tear running down his cheek. "She's too good for me. She deserves someone great."

"How strange," Lando replies. "That's exactly what she says about you. So get in the car and apologize. I'm sure you'll be able to sort it out. And if you say shit like that about me again, I'll drive you into the wall in Bahrain next year."

Charles curls his mouth into a thin smile. "I'm truly sorry, Lando. And thank you for everything."

"I'm just absolutely the best." Charles can almost hear his grin before the Brit hangs up.

When the Monegasque re-enters the meeting room, all eyes are on him. With deliberate steps, he walks to his chair and grabs his jacket before looking at his team boss. "I'm going home."

His boss crosses his arms in front of his chest. "You can't just leave like that, Charles. We need to talk about next season and everything that's gone wrong this year."

"I can tell you exactly what happened," the brunette replies as he zips up his jacket. "The strategies this year were all for the trash, you screwed me over and you cost me the title." He grabs his wallet and car keys from the table in front of him. "Make sure things go better next year. After all, it doesn't get any shittier than this. See you next year. Have a good holiday."

He knows that his Ferrari can drive fast. And he also knows that he shouldn't drive that fast. But the roads home are empty and he wants to get to you as quickly as possible, in the hope that you haven't left the apartment yet. The accelerator pedal is almost stuck to the floor and he would certainly have to pay a heavy fine if the police caught him speeding. But apparently luck is on his side and it takes him just over three hours to turn onto the streets of Monaco.

The closer he gets to your apartment, the faster his heart beats and he can feel himself starting to sweat. What's the best way to start the apology?

I'm sorry I was so shitty to you, but it was because -

I behaved like crap, but it was only because - 

I'm sorry I was such a bad friend, but you should have - 

Wow. It actually all sounds like shit. 

Maybe Lando is right. Maybe the most reasonable thing would be for Charles to just be honest, even if it means destroying everything between you. But you deserve the truth.

I'm sorry I said those bad things to you and I'm sorry I hurt you. Of course, apologizing can't undo any of it, but if you gave me the chance, I could explain myself to you. I was jealous because we had such a nice evening and then I find out you planned a date with one of my friends. I wanted to kiss you in the bookstore, I've wanted you ever since we met. You've been messing with my head from the beginning, taking over my heart and I can't think straight when you're with me. Maybe it's crazy because we've only known each other for five days, but I've never felt about someone the way I feel about you. I'm in lo-

His train of thought stops abruptly as he turns into the street. A green Nissan is parked on the sidewalk in front of your apartment, the driver's door is open and the hazard lights illuminate the walls of the house. 

Charles worriedly parks at the next opportunity before jumping out of the car and dashing to the front door, which is wide open. He can already hear angry voices from outside, a male voice that almost shouts the whole house awake. 

And your voice, angry and rough and shaky, as if you were at the end of your tether. 

Charles sprints up the few steps to your apartment and stops like a flash on the top step when he sees you. You're wearing your pyjamas, your hair is disheveled, as if you've run your hand through it several times, and when you see him, you snap your eyes open as if you've seen a ghost. 

But it's not the sight of you that makes Charles' blood boil. 

It's Raphael's, who follows your gaze and takes a step back when he realizes who he's facing. "Your roommate is Charles Leclerc?"

next part

[charlotteking23]

No Fool - LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando tries to make you feel better after your award show goes wrong, but instead creates chaos.

requested: anonymous

"Baby, I am so proud of you, getting this award is a big deal", Lando breathes out running his hands across my body lightly squeezing me.

"thanks", I mutter shyly. I was so nervous about this award. what if I made a fool of myself, all these what ifs running through my head.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look in the dress", Lando smirked as he squeezed your thigh as we rode to the award show.

I couldn't stop admiring him, he looked so sexy in that suit with one hand driving the car and the other hand on my thigh.

"take a picture, it will last longer baby", Lando chuckled seeing my face hot with embarrassment being caught looking at him.

As we arrived, the paparazzi immediately swarmed the car, recognizing the vehicle belonged to the Lando Norris.

As we headed inside the ceremony, Lando's hand never left my waist. Lando and I took our assigned seats next to each other, we weren't in the back but also not in the front it was perfect, made felt invisible.

As time went on Lando's hand never left my thigh whispering some not-so-kid-friendly things. We were in front of the other drivers as well Max, Daniel, Charles and etc.

Finally, my name was called as I got up Lando took my hand squeezing it lightly reassuring me. As I walked on stage, the host introduced me making a little speech.

It was supposed to be a heartwarming speech but had turned into a nightmare. He talked about how the beginning of the season was terrible, making me blush in embarrassment. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I spoke through the microphone.

I felt like an idiot, I practiced my speech a hundred times but as I started speaking I completely messed up my speech, even stuttering. Finally, when I was done the party could start because I was the last one.

I brushed past Lando when he tried to congratulate me and instead walked over to the bar to order some strong shots.

After a few I walked around stumbling over my feet, everything was so blurry. I couldn't remember how many drinks I had, only remembering the horrible speech I had presented.

I spotted Lando by the tables talking to Daniel and Oscar, looking around every minute as if he was looking for something or someone.

I stumbled towards Lando thinking how do I get his attention, I didn't want to interrupt him so I tugged on his shirt. Immediately Lando turned around, sighing softly as he realized I was the one who tugged slightly at his shirt.

I crashed into his body, hugging him as tightly as possible. "I made a fool of myself", I said pouting slightly against Lando's chest.

"Oh baby, you didn't make a fool of yourself, you did wonderful", Lando whispered in my ear leading me towards the table where he gave me a bottle of water.

"Do you want to go home", Lando whispered. I nodded yes not wanting to say anymore, only wanting to get out of this suffocated place.

Lando waved his friends bye, gathering my arms into his embrace walking me out to the front. As exspected Paparazzi and fans were lined up.

It felt too much, seeing people push each other to see a glance at the F1 driver and his girlfriend. The crowd got pusher and pusher leading you to almost fall when a guy trampled you to see Lando.

Lando immediately helps you, pulling your hands to hold his waist.

“Hey, watch it you nearly hurt my girlfriend”, Lando grunts not trying to get into a fight and reframed from saying anything bad.

“Please Lando, you could do better than this bit”-, before the man could finish Lando punch the man in the face.

You look around blinded by the media flashing lights wanting to see Lando fight. You turned a few seconds later to see Daniel holding Lando back and Oscar calling someone, probably the authorities.

You look at the guy seeing some nasty bruises and cuts. You saw Lando with no bruises and just a cut on his lip but that’s it.

Lando finally calmed down, his number one priority was to look for you when he finally saw your figure frozen a few feet away from him.

He took your arm dragging you to his car where the media flashed both you and him wanting his reaction and comment.

Just as quickly you both left, a deafening silence in McLaren’s car.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you”, Lando said quietly not wanting to scare you.

After a couple of seconds you responded with, “it's not your fault, and thank you for defending me”, you said just as quietly.

“You hungry?”, Lando questioned trying to change the subject.

“I could eat”, you replied starving only eating those mini dishes from the fancy restaurants that barely gave any food.

“McDonald's”, Lando said pulling up to the fast food places. Knowing it's your favorite late-night craving.

“McDonald's”, you said excitedly.

[kitten4sannie]

ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴘʟᴀʏ/ꜰʟᴏɢɢɪɴɢ ➠ ʏᴜɴʜᴏ/ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ

pairing: enemy emperor! yunho x empress! reader x scribe! yeosang

genre: historical au, smut

summary: you have another tension filled meeting with the stubborn man that wants nothing more than to conquer and own you. your new dedicated scribe records everything.

w.c: 4k

warnings: hard dom! yunho, bratty pillow princess! reader, bricked up witness! yeosang, monster cock alerttt, cnc, light mxm, exhibitionism/voyeurism, name calling/pet names, degradation, dirty talk (this man…he’s so nasty in this i’m not even sorry…), lots of manhandling, spanking/flogging, dacryphilia, half dressed kink idk, spit, hair grabbing, threesome elements, some cucky vibes, a little dash of praise, rough wall sex, creampie, yeosang licks everything up… AHEM, oral (receiving), fingering, cum eating, squirting

a/n: i was extremely high when i wrote this and i am down bad astronomically for yuyu and yeosang so yeah something religious happened to me during the writing process !! i mostly blame it on jackson wang bc that song is sooooo…. rfhhehwh it turns me into a rabid animal ngl anywaysss i hope you enjoy lovelies xx

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ᴄʀᴜᴇʟ ʙʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ᴡᴀɴɢ

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ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

As the empress of your country’s land, it’s always been up to you to partake in the anointed trivialities that required your royal attention. Aside from drawn out, traditional ceremonies to endless horse riding and archery lessons with a seasoned member of the congregation, you spent most of your time having meetings with your supposed suitors, having to listen to their boundless, self-important monologues about their days in battle, coming to know just how much knowledge they held in combat and war strategies, and fighting the urge to pull your hand away when they would hold onto it, pleading you with their eyes for your approval. It all bored you to tears. 

Though, there was a particular individual that you couldn’t seem to keep your mind off of, no matter how hard you tried. Jeong Yunho, an emperor from the land that bordered yours. A man from a bloodline that your family had gone to war with many times over the years. Despite that you were quite literally sleeping with the enemy, you couldn’t help yourself. You had never met anyone like him before. Instead of asking and pleading for your attention, time, and body, he simply took it. Took what he wanted from you without a care in the world. He wasn’t even bothered by that fact that your dear scribe still sat in the meeting room with you, hazily scribbling down everything that occurred and what was said, spilling bottles of ink onto his scrolls due to how flustered he was from witnessing the way Yunho forcefully conquered his dear empress with a domineering smirk plastered on his sweaty face, the panting emperor’s cock routinely disappearing underneath your disheveled ceremony garments and into your willing cunt. 

“Your Highness, Lord Jeong should be here any second now,” your fresh-faced scribe began from across the meeting room, setting up various sized brushes in a line, smoothing out a few creases he found embedded in the elongated sleeves of his ceremony robe. He suddenly looked up at you, concern present within his widened honey brown eyes. “Should I make more tea?” 

“That won’t be necessary, Yeosang, but your intention is very sweet, thank you,” you replied softly, making your way across the room in your heavy garbs, taking the time to run your fingers through your newest scribe’s hair, offering him a smile that made him drop one of his brushes. “Lord Jeong doesn’t drink much tea. He…prefers to get straight to business.” 

Yeosang’s smile dropped slightly when your hand left his hair, his eyes traveling your form as you sat on your knees in front of the meeting table, watching you take a sip from your steaming celadon cup and nod your head in approval of the flavor. “Have you considered his marriage requests? I’ve read some of the letters he’s sent to you…” The young scribe blushed suddenly, his eyes lowering to look at the blank spaces on his scrolls. “They’re quite intense. Does that sort of thing interest you?” 

You rested your chin inside the palm of your hand, your gold bracelets dangling from your wrist, squinting your eyes at Yeosang, your lips curling up ever so slightly. “It does, very much so. Lord Jeong is one of the most interesting men I’ve come across thus far…I’ve greatly considered his offers, despite him being the enemy.” 

Yeosang tilted his head, a few locks of his hair falling into his focused eyes. “If I may ask, your Highness…What’s stopping you from accepting?” 

You ran your finger around the rim of your celadon cup, looking at your reflection within the black tea, your smile fading. “I don’t want the excitement to end, Yeosang.” You looked back up at him, unable to keep yourself from smiling gently at his confused expression. “Marriage, as beautiful as it is, brings monotony, which brings contempt…” 

“Ahh, I see now,” Yeosang nodded slowly, giving you a sad smile back, feeling like he understood his empress a bit more in that moment. He squeezed his fingers around the intricately carved wooden brush inside his grasp.  “Your Highness, may I ask you a question?” 

Just as you were about to respond, the large, jewel-encrusted doors of your meeting room opened with a groan. A tall, handsome man dressed in an extravagant, hand-sewn traditional robe came strolling in like he owned the place, holding an expensive mahogany box within his large hands. 

“Oh, princess, I’ve brought you a present,” Yunho called out teasingly, walking up to the table. He acknowledged Yeosang’s presence with a nod, who bent over to bow. The confident emperor sat down across from you at the table, his eyes hooded, his lips quirked up perversely as if he was reminiscing about your previous meetings. “Hi. Did you miss me?” 

You rolled your eyes, pretending as if you didn’t care about the emperor’s arrival, despite your heart and core throbbing rhythmically from him simply sitting there across from you. “What did you bring me, Yunho?” 

“Something that’ll have your little scribe here pulling at his robes when I’m done using it on you…Maybe he’ll even spill his ink all over himself like your last one…” Yunho’s eyes shifted from Yeosang, who gulped, to you, who simply sipped on your tea, his long fingers rubbing along the smooth edges of the mahogany box. 

You tilted your head to the side, idly biting at the tip of your manicured nail. “Is that so? Well, get on with it. I’m a busy woman, as you know, and I don’t like when my time is being wasted with nonsense.” 

Yunho simply scoffed, shaking his head slightly, sitting there silently for a moment, the only sound in the room being Yeosang’s wet brush expertly sliding across the scroll and your nails tapping against your tea cup. 

All you registered was the sight of Yunho swiftly getting up onto his feet and heading in your direction, his feet thumping against the mat below. Before you even realized what was happening, you were laying face down on the table, watching your tea pool out onto the sleek wood, your intricately crafted tea cup now split in individual pieces. Yunho had you held down by the neck, his fingers closing around it, his warm body pressing against yours, able to feel his stiff cock against your ass, even through your thick robes. 

He chuckled at the gasp you let out, bringing his lips near your ear to purr huskily, “Am I still wasting your time, princess? Or is getting your little cunt all nice and wet for me something worthwhile?” Instead of letting you answer, Yunho simply reached past you, flipping the boxe’s lid open, bringing it closer for you to take a good look at its contents. Inside the box sat a hand-woven flog, the edges of it decorated with a silver finishing, making it glisten in the light. “Do you like your present? I got it made just for you.” He rubbed his cock along your ass, his free hand roaming over your upper thigh to the curve of your ass. “Can’t you see? I’m in love with you…” 

“Oh, please.” As you tried to get up, Yunho pushed his body weight down onto you, holding your wrists down with ease. “Do you really think I’m going to let you use your little toy on me in front of my innocent scribe, Yunho? Who do you think you are?” 

“I’m simply a man who’s head over heels for you, Y/N…Take some responsibility…” Yunho quickly reached past your neck and down to your chest to rip open your garments, tugging on them while you continued to resist until your bare body was revealed underneath the many layers.

Yeosang dipped his brush inside the bottle of ink with a shaky hand, his cheeks flushed, unsure if he should speak up, his eyes fixated on you, never having seen you in such an indecent state before. “Sh-should…I keep going, your Highness?” 

When Yunho forcefully bent you over his knee and pulled your disheveled robe up to reveal your ass, his large hands squeezing into it, you nodded your head weakly at Yeosang, feeling a bit dizzy from being treated in such a way with your lovely dedicated scribe watching on. “Please, don’t let us stop you from doing your job, Yeosang…you’re doing so well…”  

“Thank you, Your Highness…” Yeosang blushed from the praise, dipping his brush back into the ink, before pressing it to the scroll, thankful that his garments were thick enough to cover his stiffening length.

You weren’t able to reply to Yeosang when Yunho abruptly slammed his open palm against the curve of your ass, a moan leaving your lips instead of words. He smacked the other side of your ass to watch it bounce and groped along it, squeezing your sensitive flesh between his slender fingers. “That’s it…just look at that color…Wish you could see it, princess. Shall I add some pretty shades of purple and pink too? You’re my canvas, Y/N…I’m sure you’ll let me paint you with my cum next, right? Just like every time, yeah?” 

“Fuck off, Yunho,” you grumbled, attempting to climb out of his lap, throbbing at the feeling of him grabbing you by the waist and holding you still, knowing you couldn’t get away even if you tried. 

“You weren’t saying that last time, princess. You were begging me for more…” Yunho picked up the flog, running his fingers along the woven leather, before he cracked it in the air, making Yeosang and you jolt from the sudden loud noise, bringing joy to the emperor. “Take a deep breath for me, Y/N…” 

Just as you did so, Yunho brought the flog down onto your ass, watching the individual leather straps leave pretty red marks on your skin, groaning, “So pretty… you’re so pretty for me, princess…” and repeating the motion, lacking the proper self control to stop himself, even when you began to cry, his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. 

“F-fuck…! Stop!” You kicked your legs and thrashed around until you were able to wiggle out of his grasp, just barely making it over to Yeosang’s large scribing table, before Yunho slammed you down onto it, knocking over one of the ink bottles with his rough handling of you. 

“Crying just for me, princess? You’re making me so hard,” Yunho sighed into your ear, moving closer to your face to lick one of your tears away, his hot breath hitting your cheek, your ass stinging more when he grabbed it roughly, bolts of pleasure shooting into your core. 

 “You fucking asshole…” you choked out, about to pull yourself up when the emperor pinned your hands painfully behind your back, feeling his knee press in between your thighs. 

Yunho tugged more of your garments off without a care in the world, huffing and as he shoved his hand in between your thighs from behind, rubbing two fingers along your clothed cunt, before tearing it off with ease. “Ahh, that’s what I thought…You’re so wet for me, Y/N.” He looked to Yeosang, who was blushing wildly, still just sitting there and haphazardly recording the chaos that was occurring right next to him, knowing it wasn’t his place to interact in any way unless either of you allowed him to. Yunho continued to rub at your cunt, enjoying the noises you and your gushing slit were making. “Hey, scribe, make sure you make a note about how fucking soaked your empress gets from getting manhandled by an enemy emperor. That’s an important detail, isn’t it, princess?” 

You struggled underneath the man, starting to feel ink soaking into your expensive garments, some of it staining your cheek. “Yunho, get off of me, or so help me–” You suddenly found yourself gasping for air, having been flogged again, though this time some of the leather straps reached your cunt, feeling it sting pleasurably in between your trembling thighs. 

Yunho looked over to Yeosang, who had his fingers clenched around his brush, his free hand in between his clenching thighs. “Hey, Yeosang, do you know why the previous scribe quit?” When he shook his head, Yunho grinned, admiring the pattern of bruises he left on your ass, running his fingers lightly over them. “He couldn’t handle watching his beloved empress cry and take what I so graciously gave her, but you can, can’t you, Yeosang?” 

He bit his bottom lip, feeling conflicted, not sure if he should nod or not. He instead looked to you, his eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Your Highness…” Yeosang whispered softly, hesitantly placing one hand on top of yours, holding it tightly. 

You looked up at him, smiling gently, blowing a bit of hair out of your hazy eyes, reaching your other hand over to rub the top of his knuckles. “It’s okay, Yeosang…I want this…” 

Yunho grabbed you by the hair, forcefully lifting up your head so that he could get a good look at you, practically drooling at this point, his cock throbbing against your backside. “Say that again…Let me hear it…” 

You turned your head to look at him, smiling sweetly, before you pursed your lips and sent a wad of spit onto his cheek, satisfied with the way it dripped down along his tightening jaw. “If you hurry up and fuck me instead of continuing on with this bullshit, I’ll think about it.” 

Turned on beyond measure, Yunho grabbed your own jaw, forcing it open so that he could send a wad of spit straight down your throat, chuckling darkly at the moan that escaped your parted lips. “This is why you’re my favorite, princess. You’re such a bratty little thing, just aching to be put in your place, huh? You want me to do that? Fuck you into submission in front of your sweet little scribe? Just say the word….” 

This time around, Yunho could see the desperation on your flushed face, your lips forming a pout. “Please…” you whined, surprising yourself and the two men watching you with your sudden act of obedience. 

“Oh my god, that’s fucking it right there…” Yunho groaned, pulling at the sash wrapped securely around his slim waist and pulling it loose, so that he could gain access to his undergarments, quickly tugging his stiff, leaking cock out. “Do you draw portraits too, scribe? This slut’s pretty face should be kept in the history books…” 

Yeosang nervously shook his head, starting to spread the ink across his scroll from watching the way Yunho pushed you up against the wall, so close to Yeosang that his garments spilled into his lap, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist, just as he fully sheathed himself inside you, your soaked panties pushed to the side.

“No? That’s too bad…Well, at least jot down the fact that I conquer your Highness’s tight little cunt every time I give her a visit…” Yunho huffed out, smiling at you with his canines showing, his hands cemented tightly around your bare waist, bringing himself down to one of your tits to suck it into his open mouth. 

“God, will you just–aaah–shut the fuck up and…nnngh…fuck me properly?” you asked in between pants, barely able to take the emperor’s thick, oversized cock without feeling like you were going to break, your nails digging into his straining upper back through his garments, one side of his robe starting to drape off one of his broad shoulders. 

“Yeah? You want it rough just like every other time, don’t you, whore?” Yunho groaned against your skin, dragging his tongue up over your spit-laced tit to attack your neck with his lips and teeth, leaving your skin in various shades of red and purple. “Write this down too, scribe. The people should know that this pretty princess can’t cum unless she has a horsecock ramming into her cunt. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”  

You couldn’t even speak at this point, from the way Yunho lifted one leg up onto the scribe table, using the leverage to fuck into you as deep and hard as he could, about to cream yourself from the way he kept you pinned down, just using you like a doll made for his pleasure. 

Now almost directly underneath his empress and the enemy emperor’s rapidly joining bodies, Yeosang couldn’t help but look up, fixated on the way your cunt spread open each time Yunho slammed himself inside your clenching hole, feeling a few drops of your mixed arousal drip down onto his face and roll down his warm cheek. He gingerly opened his mouth and held his tongue out, now pressing his brush directly into the soaked paper, leaning his back against the wall behind him, his hand beginning to rub at his pre-cum soaked cock that was still trapped underneath his heavy garments. 

“God, you’re so fucking wet, princess…I think I might…slip out…” Yunho sighed heavily against your ear, roughly nibbling it with the aid of one of his canine teeth, slowly sliding his cock out of you and slapping his heavy cock against your abdomen, smearing his pre cum onto your skin. 

The feeling of being completely empty just as you were about to cum almost sent you into a full-blown rage, practically ready to start another war with Yunho if he didn’t stick his cock back inside you. You abruptly grabbed him by the hair, clutching a tuft of his damp icy blond locks, leaning in so that your lips ghosted his. “Fuck me, you goddamn bastard. Make me cum.” 

This time Yunho didn’t play any games, simply rubbing his cockhead back and forth over your throbbing clit just to make you shudder against him, before he slipped back inside, immediately pounding himself into you, essentially leaving you breathless. “Look at you just taking it, princess… I know it’s big…You’re doing so well for me…taking it so good, princess…I’m so proud…” 

The sudden bout of praise coming from the enemy in such a sickly sweet tone, especially while he began to pump hot loads of cum into you, sent you barreling over the edge, not doing your dear scribe any favors when you began to babble nonsensically, tears beginning to fall from your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure taking over your body. 

“Yeahhh, take it, princess…I’m gonna knock you up so you have to marry me.” Yunho chuckled darkly, his fingers squeezing into your hips, pressing a rough kiss to your lips, biting at your bottom lip before he pulled away. 

“You’re disgusting,” you huffed, grimacing at him, despite the fact that your thighs were still trembling. 

“Don’t say that, princess,” Yunho whined, leaning his forehead against yours, slowly pulling out inch by inch. “You know how hard that makes me…” He looked down to Yeosang, who was breathing heavily underneath the both of you, his mouth agape, splashes of arousal decorating his pretty, flushed face and damp hair. “Hey, scribe, you’ve been a good boy just sitting here and watching the whole time. You want a taste of your Highness’s used cunt?” 

Feeling sufficiently dizzy, Yeosang looked to you for approval, feeling his cock pulse at your slow dazed nod, bringing his hands up to your thighs to caress them, bringing his lips up to kiss and lick at the wetness around your cunt with a gentleness that would’ve had you collapsing if your legs weren’t securely hooked over Yunho’s shoulders. 

“Make sure you get it all…” Yunho murmured softly, completely pulling out of you with a wet, shlick sound, dribbles of his cum beginning to gush out of your gaping hole, allowing Yeosang to collect it inside his drooling mouth. Yunho brought a free hand to Yeosang’s head, holding him against your cunt, finding great joy in the desperate, sloppy manner in which he ate you out, like a delirious, thirsty man that had just found a hidden oasis. 

It was when Yeosang slipped his slender fingers deep inside your pulsing cunt, his hot mouth closed around your sensitive clit, that you began to whine and whimper, one arm hooked around Yunho’s neck for support, your free hand going down to grab onto Yeosang’s hair when Yunho let go, gazing down to find him already looking up at you with half closed eyes. 

“It’s so good, you’re so good for me, Yeosang, I’m going to…oh my god…”  

Yeosang clutched one side of your bruised ass with one hand, curling three of his fingers inside you and rubbing them against your clenching walls, lapping at your clit, his thighs closing together, his cheeks bright red from the praise. 

All the while, Yunho simply watched on, his chest swelling with pride, occasionally leaving kisses and licks on your straining, marked-up neck. “Cum for him, will you, princess? Won’t you soak his pretty face with your squirt?” 

Having your lovely scribe in between your legs, eating your cunt like it was his assigned job to do so, having your sworn enemy pressing his heated, sweaty body against yours, more filthy words leaving his lips for your shared pleasure was all far too much. “Yeosang…!” 

Yeosang found himself being covered in a warm spray of liquid, tasting your squirt on his tongue, closing his eyes for a moment to bask in the pleasure of it all, opening them back up just in time for you to pull him into your arms, your bare body against his half-dressed one. “Your Highness…” 

“I didn’t mean to do such a dirty thing to you, Yeosang, I’m so sorry…” You used your sleeves to wipe some of the wetness away from his face, blushing more than you had during the whole night. 

“Your Highness…” he repeated, softer this time, giving you a shy smile, pulling his robe apart until you could see what he had done to himself. 

Your eyes widened at the milky stains of cum splattered across the insides of his ceremonial garments, looking back up into his eyes, returning his shy smile. “If I had known you had such an affinity for me, I wouldn’t have looked for suitors this long. Who needs them when I have you?” 

Yeosang reached up to hold his heated cheeks, dumbfounded by the string of events, unable to believe that his beloved empress could feel such a way about him. “It’d be an honor to always be by your side…”

You giggled, reaching up to place a hand over his, your thumb brushing over his pretty birthmark. 

Yunho cleared his throat, running his fingers through his sweaty hair, his robe already wrapped ornately around his body, looking like he did when he first entered the meeting room, besides the afterglow he was now sporting. “I’d love to stay here longer and experience this beautiful moment with you both, but my job here is done.” He patted both of your heads, as if he were a proud father, before heading taking a few elegant strides towards the door. Before he left, he turned back to look at you, his tongue poking into one of his canine teeth, giving you a shit-eating smirk. “Until next time, princess.” 

“There isn’t going to be a next time,” you muttered to yourself, rolling your eyes, your arms still around Yeosang, watching your smug enemy leave the room with a soft chuckle. 

Yeosang chuckled softly, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair, feeling confident enough to share his thoughts with you. “Now, let’s not kid ourselves, Your Highness.” 

“Heyyy,” you whined, giving him a pout, watching him pick up his drying brush up from the table. “Don’t you dare write that down.” When he motioned to dip his brush into the spilled ink, you hugged onto him from the side. “Yeosangggg, I’m still your empress!”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “By the way, what was that question you wanted to ask me?”

Yeosang gulped, studying the ink-stained table below for a second, before turning his head to look at you, your faces just centimeters away from one another. “Will you replace me one day, Your Highness?”

Your eyes widened slightly, taking in your scribe’s vulnerability, wanting to return the same energy to him, as he was deserving of it. “Never, Yeosang. You’re here to stay.”

Yeosang blushed fervently, dropping the brush back down to hug you into his arms, nuzzling your neck gently, his hair tickling your skin, about to melt inside his empress’s grasp. “Promise?” 

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, pressing your lips to his cheek, waiting for him to look back into your eyes to whisper, “Promise.”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[britany1997]

Good girl

Spike x Fem Reader

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while. Spike just gives brat tamer to me because of season sex six, and with a human I feel like he’d be even more intense (he would love the power imbalance). Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: a little predator/prey, sub/dom dynamics, brat/brat taming, a little pet play, fingering, oral sex, p n v sex, a little blood drinking, a little praise, cream pie

You felt the bass thumping in your chest as you maneuvered through The Bronze’s Friday night crowd.

You reached your table, leaning against it and swirling your drink with a bored sigh. You hated going to the club alone.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw a flash of black slip under the staircase. You smirked to yourself, you wouldn’t be alone much longer.

You hummed, grabbing your coat to step outside for “some fresh air.”

You wandered aimlessly, slipping a smoke out of your pocket and lighting it up. You were about to bring it to your lips when you felt a hand snake around your waist and pull you into a firm chest.

Another hand appeared to steal the cigarette out of your grasp. You turned to see Spike bring it to his lips.

He tsked at you, “naughty pet, don’t you know these are bad for your health?”

“They’re not mine,” you smirked, “I just hold ‘em for my boyfriend. But you know, he makes ‘em look so good I had to try.”

“Yeah love? Want to try?” He grasped your chin in his hand before taking a drag. “Open up pet.”

Your lips parted and his mouth enveloped yours in a possessive kiss. He exhaled, filling your mouth with smoke. When he finished, he released you, but not without nipping at your lip. His lip.

“Such a dirty mouth love,” he growled, “think we’d better go wash it out yeah?”

You mock pouted, “well I don’t know, should I go home with a big bad vampire like you?” Your fingers danced up his chest, “isn’t that sort of…dangerous?”

A laugh rumbled through his chest, “not if you’re good.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “are you a good girl pet?”

You bit your lip, fighting a smile, “oh I’m terrible.”

He pulled back a bit, sighing for show, “don’t worry pet, I can fuck that right out of you.”

Spike led you through the opening of his cave before grabbing a pillow and throwing it to the ground, “for your knees love.”

You huffed a laugh, “how considerate.”

“It is considerate,” he said plainly, “now kneel.”

As you did, you watched him pull a nail file from his bedside table. You snorted. “You’re gonna do your nails?” your eyebrow raised.

He strolled over to you, placing the nail file down next to him as he began to unbuckle his belt with one hand. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he tapped your forehead. “Worry about that nasty ashtray mouth of yours. Say ahh.”

You shivered, “ahh.” He ran one hand through your hair as he finished freeing himself from his jeans with the other. “Good, stay like that.”

He entered your mouth, grabbing the back of your head and pressing you forward to take him. You moaned around him and went to grab his hips, but he slapped your hands away.

“Did I say you could touch?”

You whimpered and let your hands fall, gripping the pillow you were knelt on instead.

“That’s better,” he began to move in a steady rhythm, his cock pushing deeper with every thrust.

After a minute or two, he let his hand fall away from your head and picked up his file. While he fucked your face, he began to file his nails.

Your eyes narrowed.

He thrusted forcefully, causing you to gag a bit. “Good girls don’t scowl,” he scolded.

“Sorry,” you said, the apology muffled by his cock down your throat.

He sighed, “good girls don’t talk with their mouth full.”

You fought the urge to rolls your eyes and hollowed out your cheeks instead. A moan fell from Spike’s lips. “That’s more like it.”

He put down the file and gripped your head again. He began to move it back and forth, sliding your mouth up and down his cock.

“Swallow for me love,” he groaned as he came down your throat.

You obeyed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand when you finished.

Spike smirked, admiring the sight of you kneeling, his cum dripping from your perfect lips.

He reached over to caress your cheek. “Take your clothes off for me, then sit on the bed pet,” he tells you.

You begin to slouch off each article of clothing as slow as humanly possible, teasing your vampire lover. Spike smirks, amused by your antics. He moves to squeeze your bare hip. “Don’t push your luck pet, you were doing so well.”

With feral determination, he rips the rest of your clothes off before pushing you back onto the bed.

You gasp as your core grows slick with wetness. You bite your lip as he kneels in front of you, wedging himself between your knees.

“Say you’re mine,” he orders, his tone coated with lust.

“First, why don’t you tell me why nail care was more important than watching me suck you off,” you teased, giving him the taste of defiance you knew he’d love to snuff out of you.

“Was so I could do this love,” he said as he sunk two fingers into your core. You gasped, tears springing to the corners of your eyes.

Spike smirked as he curled his fingers, searching for the spongey spot inside you. Your eyes rolled back into your head when he brushed against it.

“Think you need more love,” he whispered as he began circling your clit with his thumb. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“That feel good pet? Make you wanna be a good girl for me now?”

You nodded, whimpering, desperate for just a little more.

He leaned in, fingers still stroking deep inside you. “Then tell me you’re mine.”

He’d won and you knew it. “I’m yours,” you moaned.

“My what?”

“Your human.”

“What else,” his fingers sped up as they flicked over your clit, almost vibrating.

“Your pet!” You moaned.

“Good girl,” he growled as he sunk his teeth into your neck.

The pleasure from his fingers and the pain from his teeth pushed you over the edge. You screamed his name as you coated his hand.

Spike pulled back from your neck, licking his lips. He then met your glazed doe eyes as he sucked his fingers clean. “God you’re delicious,” he purred, his mouth slick with a mix of cum and blood.

His eyes softened a bit as he took in the sight of you. Your pouty lips whimpering, your eyes wide, your thighs dripping. You were all his.

“Lay back,” he whispered, and you did without a fight.

He smiled down at you, “see how much fun we can have when you behave?”

You whined.

He huffed a laugh before taking your right ankle in his hands. He brought it to his lips, kissing it softly before slipping it over his shoulder. He did the same to your left.

“You’re perfect,” he praised, “and you’re all mine.”

He pressed into you, splitting you open on his cock, making your back arch in pleasure.

His grey eyes bore into yours with possessive affection as you felt him plunge so deep, you swore he was in your stomach.

You began to roll your hips to meet his thrusts, mewling and writhing in ecstasy from his touch.

Spike fucked you deep with long, slow strokes. He pulled almost all the way out of you, letting his tip bump against your clit, before driving back in.

You screamed, feeling familiar pressure building inside you, “can I…” you trailed off with a moan.

He smiled down at you fondly, “yes pet, you’ve earned it.”

You let out a blissful sigh as you came all over Spike’s cock.

With a few more quick thrusts he was falling over the edge with a low moan.

He gently slipped your legs off his shoulders and placed them down on the bed before laying down next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss to your temple.

You smiled, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his.

He chuckled softly, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders. “I’m yours too,” he told you.

You smiled, mock gasping. “Oh yeah? Big bad creature of the night? All mine?”

He smirked, “you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.”

“No you won’t” you booped his nose.

He rolled his eyes, “No I won’t.”

Spike Taglist (comment to be added)🖤:

@sad-ghost-of-garbage @6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @bloodywickedvamp @ghoulgeousimmaculate @anna1306 @arbesa-mind @lostboys1987girl @dwaynesluscioushair @crustyboypix @ria-coolgirl @the-glitter-wizard

[justwinginglife]

No because your writing keeps me going in this Soshiro Hoshina AO3 drought!!!!!!!

What do we think about our Vice Captain getting in some trouble during a battle with a nasty Kaiju and his long time friend/crush who is a platoon leader in another division just so happens to be on her way to visit the 3rd division when the attack happens so she swoops in to save the day (and stitches him up after the whole ordeal ;))???

So glad I could provide sustenance! I am also keeping myself afloat with my writing trying to stay sane until season two comes out. I need more Hoshina screentime fr fr.

Crushing Hard

Soshiro Hoshina had dinner plans and he was late.

He cursed the kaiju for its poor timing. It was one thing to have to fight a kaiju on a Saturday - how inconsiderate of it to attack on his day off- and another to have to fight it before a date. At least he thought it was a date. He never knew with you. He hoped it was a date. He'd been pining after you for so long, it made his whole week (his whole month, really) that you'd texted him asking if you could swing by and have dinner this weekend.

He had just fixed his hair for the tenth time (he didn't know why he felt the need to fix it so much, it looked the same every time he fixed it), when he got the call that there was a kaiju wreaking havoc. And only a couple blocks away from where you were supposed to meet him for dinner, no less. He would really beat the shit out of the kaiju if it destroyed the restaurant he had planned to take you to.

So he quickly threw his combat suit on over his date clothes, hoping it would be a quick and easy mission, and he'd be ready to greet you at the door in no time at all. Yeah, that had been wishful thinking. This Honju really had it out for him.

In fact, the damn Honju had even sliced through part of his combat suit, tearing through the top he was wearing underneath.

"This was my favorite fucking shirt, damnit!" He curses at the Kaiju and runs at it again, swords at the ready.

The thing about this Honju was that it wasn't very big but it was very quick. Hoshina was exhausting himself just keeping up with it. It was almost like it was made to fight Hoshina, with its strengths lying in speed and close combat. And to make matters worse, without meaning to, Hoshina's mind kept wandering to his dinner with you, causing him to be slower to react than normal. He took a cut to the cheek and swore again. If he took anymore hits, he didn't know if his pride would let him show up to dinner looking like this.

"You know, I really didn't think you'd be treating me to dinner and a show, but you always were the overachiever."

Before he even had time to process who was talking, a large blast went off and the Honju suddenly has a gaping hole in its abdomen.

"Huh. Sturdy thing, aren't you? Let's try that again." Another blast and now its chest is missing.

Hoshina blinks, watching as you continue blasting the kaiju until it's nothing more than roadkill on the pavement. He should be helping you, he should be bandaging himself up, he should be getting food in the both of your stomachs. So many things to do, but all he wants to do is stare. You look so gorgeous with a gun. The way you wipe blood from your cheek, the way your ponytail lifts in the wind, the way that you smirk at the corpse, smug about your win. He wants to take in everything about you.

"You look like you need a drink." Now you were turning around, grinning at him. He thinks to himself that he could watch you forever.

"Soshiro?"

He shakes his head quickly. "Sorry. Must be the blood loss."

You laugh. "Well let's take care of that and then you owe me some dinner, as I recall." You start cleaning him up and he continues to watch you as you handle him with such care.

You pull the combat suit off of him, revealing his torn shirt underneath. "Ah damn. That was your favorite shirt. And mine too. Love when you wear this thing, I'll have to buy you a new one." You continue bandaging him like you haven't just said something that gets his heart racing.

"Mmm, I know, I have one of your shirts in my bag. You can change into that and then we can hit up that restaurant if you're still up for it?"

He nods, a little too quickly you notice. It's adorable.

Then he cocks his head to the side. "Wait, why do you have one of my shirts?"

Then it's your turn to blush. "Ahh that... well it just looked so comfy, can you really blame me for stealing it?"

His eyes widen. "Wait just a minute, how many of my shirts do you have??"

You cough. "Just the one- why do you ask?"

He crosses his arms at you and raises an eyebrow. "Because I was wondering why my closet was looking a little sparse lately. And I thought maybe the washer just ate them all."

"Haha... funny... uh, about that..." You scratch your head sheepishly.

He roll his eyes in mock annoyance but then he smiles. "I'm sure you look better in them than I do anyway. I suppose you can keep them. But you owe me some new shirts!"

You laugh, holding your hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Will do. After you buy me dinner, I did just save your sorry ass." You tease.

And the two of you continue on like that the rest of the night, just joking, laughing, drinking, and slowly the line between friends and more than friends starts to blur. Hoshina thinks to himself, maybe he does have a chance in hell with you.

After all, who the fuck steals half of someone's closet?

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

"Sure I can't convince you to ditch Narumi and join my division instead? I make a mean omurice."

[catsrsupersonic]

fight, and make up

Quinn Hughes x reader

warnings: cussing, angst? kind of?, happy ending, mention of alcohol, ending kind of horrible cause i didnt know how to end it lolz, too long *sigh*

word count: 1.4k ish

Be kind! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Wage peace xx

*****

Person B gets locked out of their house while their roommate is gone, so they spend the night at Person A's place.

“Are you fucking kidding me Alyssa?” you groaned, stood outside the door to the terrace house you shared with your roommate in Vancouver. It was raining extremely heavily, and your work clothes were drenched. Because you had just moved to the city you barely knew anyone. One of your friends from college was looking for a new roommate and you took the plunge and moved from New York to Vancouver just under two months ago. You had tried your best to make some friends, been to a multitude or bars, but trying to make friends as an adult is so much harder than it was when you were a kid. On top of this, you and your boyfriend Quinn had fought the day before and neither of you had spoken to the other since. That’s why, when your key broke two days ago and your roommate, Alyssa, forgot to leave her spare before leaving for a four-day work trip, you were where you were now. Stranded. Cold. Wet. All with no where to go because you didn’t know anyone, and you were mad at your boyfriend.

You stood for a few minutes contemplating your options. Since you always had extra makeup and a clean set of clothes in your car, you could sleep uncomfortably in your car and be sore at work tomorrow. You could also just bite the bullet and apologise to your boyfriend for freaking out on him the day before. In your own defence, he was allowing a random girl who worked at the rink to text him daily. She was clearly flirting with him, even going as far to ask him out for dinner. And even though your boyfriend never entertained her flirtatious comments and only responded politely, it had really irked you that he was replying at all and didn’t shut her down the second she started flirting. What pushed you over the edge when you brought it up was the double standards and hypocrisy when he asked what the big deal was. You knew for a fact that if this was the other way around, he would get so mad so fast and demand you block and remove whoever it was that was texting you. Then all hell broke loose.

Nasty names were called, and shouting continued for nearly ten minutes until you had finally had enough and stormed out of his apartment forgetting your only coat and your favourite lip gloss. You made a b-line to the carpark and only when you were sat in your car did you allow yourself to start crying. You were embarrassed at yourself for being insecure when your boyfriend had never ever given you reason to be, but you were also angry at him for not understanding why you were upset at him. you heard the door to the carpark open and through blurry eyes filled with tears you saw your boyfriend begin to approach your car. Still in an angry frenzy, you quickly pulled out of the parking spot and sped off, not giving him the time of day. Again, you hadn’t spoken since.  

You in the end just decided to dry off in your car and head to your favourite bar for a bit to cool off after work and hopefully get tipsy enough to be able to sleep in your car semi comfortably.

After walking through the doors into the loud bar, it wasn’t as busy as usual, it being a Thursday and all, so you manage to snag a seat at the bar. You ordered one drink and just sat watching the game on the TV as you felt someone sit beside you. You looked to your left to see one of your boyfriends’ teammates who you had spoken to a few times. You got into a conversation about the season so far and every mention of your boyfriend made you want his comfort more and more.

Noticing your solemn expression, the teammate asked you, “Where’s Quinn tonight, anyway?” the question made you sigh because you too wanted to know what your beautiful boyfriend was doing at the current minute.

“I don’t know.” You answered truthfully, “we had a fight yesterday and he hasn’t texted me since. It was pretty nasty.” He gave you a sympathetic smile before excusing himself to the bathroom. You ordered you both another drink as you waited for him to come back.

He arrived back to his seat with a slight smirk on his face and when you asked him what he was smirking at he brushed you off and chuckled lightly to himself. The conversation began to flow again, and you noticed him keep looking at the entrance. Then, his gaze fixed solely on the door as a huge grin plastered over his face. He pointed to the door, and you followed where he was looking to see your tired, slightly dishevelled boyfriend scanning the bar for something, or someone for that matter.

As his gaze locked with yours, you looked back to his teammate who was sporting a smug grin. “Snake.” You narrowed your eyes at him as he laughed at your remark. He gave the bar staff enough cash to pay for the drinks you had both had and before you could protest his paying, he was at the door, saluting you on his way out.

The seat next to you was occupied once more with a worried looking boyfriend who scanned your features as you stared into his eyes. There were a few moments of silence where you were both just looking at each other before he decided to finally speak up. “I’m sorry, baby” he admitted. You sighed and looked into your nearly empty drink, swirling the ice about with your straw. He grabbed your hand lightly and brought it to his mouth placing a tender kiss to the tips of your fingers before continuing. “I shut her down like you asked. Then I removed her and asked for her to be moved to another department, so I never have to see her, on or off the ice.” He used his spare hand to brush a piece of hair behind your ear and after a few beats of silence he spoke up again. “Why didn’t you call me when you had no where to stay? What were you gonna do, hm? Sleep in your car?”

This caused you head to snap towards him as you looked at him with a shocked expression. How did he know that? Then before you could open your mouth and ask, he spoke once again, as if reading your mind. “Alyssa called me. But that shouldn’t have been the case. I always want you to call me when you need help, baby. I’m always here for you, just you. always.”

You leaned into him to give him a sweet kiss on his lips. “Thank you” you whispered into the kiss as his placed his hands on your hips, drawing you into an embrace.

He led you out to his car, claiming he would bring you tomorrow to get yours. The drive home was quiet. Quinns hand on your thigh was sending you to sleep and the soft hum of the engine was all that could be heard.

“I forgive you, you know.” You speak up as he quickly glanced over to you, “I shouldn’t have flipped out on you like that. You’ve never given me a reason to be insecure in this relationship. I don’t know why I reacted like that,” you said as you looked ahead, suddenly embarrassed again and crossing your arms over your torso.

“You had every right to be mad, baby. I was up all night angry at myself for letting you walk away and not shutting that girl down straight away like I should have. You were right, and you were entitled to feel insecure, but I need you to know that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”

You nodded. Deep down you knew that, but past experiences left a small voice in the back of your mind telling you different. There was more silence as he pulled into the carpark of his building. You both made your way through to the lobby and the elevator. On the way up to his level, he pulled you into a kiss and whispered a small ‘I love you’ as he led you into his apartment.

****

hope you enjoyed! Just realising I made her sound like she was homeless at the end lmao

[a-killer-obsession]

Hello!! I'd absolutely love to see an AFAB Z Reader with a little bit of P! As for that character, I think I'd have to choose the wonderful number 4. Thank you!

sorry everyone for the long gap between event fics, i promise i'm still working on them!

Milk

Prompt: Mink Reader + Pollen Additional Tags: afab reader, she/her pronouns, light somnophilia, masturbation, face fucking, forced orgasm, breeding kink, oral (receiving and giving), p in v sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, aftercare WC: 3.8

Event Masterlist

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

The island the Victoria Punk was anchored at was supposed to be uninhabited, and as such only a small team had disembarked to scout it out. It was supposed to be uneventful, but you'd stayed back from the scouting team anyway. As the doctor on the ship it wasn't a good idea to put you in any sort of harm's way, especially since you weren't much of a fighter. As a cow mink you were heavy set and slow, on the chubbier side, thought you had a lot of muscle underneath it. You could body a punch, and certainly reply with your own, but you weren't agile or well seasoned like the others. You had a good sense of smell and hearing which helped you stay out of fights, but usually if it came down to it you knew you could rely on the boys to keep you safe, just like they could always rely on you to patch them up.

The scouting team had the job of checking the island was safe from any sort of large dangerous predators before the crew could make use of harvesting any natural resources, so you were waiting patiently along with most of the crew, reading a book as you lounged with Killer on the skull deck, using each other's backs to prop each other up. Your ear twitched as it picked up movement, head perking up at the same time as Killer's haki alerted him to the incoming scouting party. Killer had been facing the island, and you held his shoulders steady so he wouldn't fall backwards as you took away his back rest, turning yourself to peer over his shoulder. The two of you watch with rising alarm as the scouting party breaks from the treeline, Heat running at the front of the group with Wire draped over his shoulder. Both of you are on your feet immediately, Killer rushing to help Heat on board while you run to prepare the infirmary for their arrival.

Your rubber gloves are on as Killer opens the door for Heat, Wire immediately deposited carefully on the closest bed, unconscious and dripping with sweat, his face flushed with fever. You touch the back of your hand to his forehead and immediately recoil at how hot his skin is, quickly setting about getting an IV line of fluids set up to account for the water he was losing through sweat.

“What happened?” You ask Heat as you work, your voice dependable and steady despite everyone else’s panic. Killer had shooed the rest of the crew out of the tight space, Kid appearing past the crowd at the commotion and furrowing his brows as he finds one of his commanders and long time friends unconscious and suffering some unknown ailment.

“It was some sort of flower,” Heat explained, “it came out of nowhere, swung down and smacked him right in the face like it was sentient. There was a puff of pollen or something and he went down”

“Must have been some sort of defense mechanism,” Killer noted, “Heat, tell the others to keep off the island”

“We'll set sail as soon as the pose resets,” Kid added, “have the ship ready to move as soon as it's ready, Wire said it'd take less than a day. I want away from this fucked up island”

“Roger that, Boss,” Heat replied, giving Wire one last forlorn look before leaving to pass along the orders, despite very much not wanting to leave his best friend’s side right now.

“How is he?” Kid asked you, he and Killer now standing on the other side of the cot from you as you worked, checking Wire's vitals and making hasty notes on a clipboard.

“He has a nasty fever,” you replied, “but there doesn't seem to be anything else wrong, no rashes or hives that might indicate this was an allergic reaction, his airway seems clear, he seems mostly fine. Whatever that pollen was has just caused a fever but I won't know the full extent of the damage till he wakes up. For now I think we just need to let him rest and hope the fever breaks soon”

And so let him rest they did. Kid carried Wire back to his own room where you felt he would be more comfortable, and you stayed at his side, dabbing his forehead with wet cloths and rechecking his vitals hourly. While he didn't seem to be getting any better or worse, at some point he started groaning in his sleep, followed by you noticing a visible tent in his leather shorts. That got you concerned, you had heard of flowers that released powerful aphrodisiacs for the purposes of increasing population numbers, but you'd never encountered them yourself. The symptoms matched what you'd heard though, so with that in mind you instructed the others to stay away from his room, under the guise of him being possibly contagious, but really just not wanting Wire to be seen in such a vulnerable state. It was fine for you, you were his doctor, it was all just natural processes, but you had a feeling he wouldn't want his friends seeing him pitching a (very large) tent in his sleep.

That brought up another problem though: what happened when he woke up? You wouldn't deny you had an attraction to Wire, but would it be taking advantage of him to offer yourself up to alleviate his symptoms? You were a doctor after all, it was all for the good of his health, right? Unsure of where you stood on that moral dilemma, you settled yourself into an armchair in the corner of Wire's room to rest, mulling over the pros and cons while you eyed his sweating body as he groaned and clawed at the sheets in his sleep. Perhaps it wouldn't even come to that, after all; Wire was a large man, and the pollen was likely designed for generic wild animals much smaller than him, perhaps the effects would wear off before he even woke up. Mind swimming with questions, you didn't even notice as you started to nod off, falling asleep in the armchair to the sound of Wire's heavy breathing.

⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆★⋆

The heavy breathing was much closer when you woke up, ears twitching at the panting in front of you and nose catching the scent of masculine musk and precum not far from your face. Your eyes fluttered open, drowsy from your impromptu nap, immediately going wide as you took in the sight before you. Wire was entirely naked, dark tan skin glistening with sweat as he fisted himself furiously right in front of you. He hadn't noticed you waking yet, concentrating too hard on your chest, which you realised was mostly exposed, your shirt having been unbuttoned halfway in your sleep revealing your lace trimmed bra and ample cleavage. You should have felt violated by the situation, any sane woman would, but instead you found yourself rubbing your thighs together in need, unbearably turned on by the tall man taking advantage of you in your vulnerable sleeping state. You were well aware how fucked up that was, but you couldn’t help get horny at it, somnophilia was certainly a kink you indulged in. You looked up at him and watched his expression change to fear as he noticed you were awake, but he never stopped pumping his impressive cock, one of his hands resting on the back of your chair as he loomed over you.

“I- I can't stop- I'm sorry,” he groaned, risking coming closer now that he was already caught, resting a knee on one of the arms of the chair. His cock was so very close to your face, so you did the only logical thing you could think of; you opened your mouth and lolled out your long, rough tongue, using your hands to free your tits from your bra and holding them together, inviting him to cum on you. He made a confused whimper at the action, having expected backlash, and eyed your breasts hungrily, seeing now your pretty pink nipples and the full curve of your massive tits.

“Well?” You purred, “are you going to give me your milk or not?”

That finally set him over the edge, pushing his cock into your offered mouth and grabbing your short horns, setting a brutal pace as he fucked your face. You were glad for your long snout, allowing you to take far more of him than a human could before his impressive length hit the back of your throat. You also had barely any gag reflex thanks to your mink anatomy, so you had no issue with his rough treatment of your mouth, arousal pooling between your legs as he used you. You were used to being used roughly like this, no vanilla man ever slept with a mink, only those with kinks that you’d found yourself enjoying more and more as you experimented with humans. You were well aware of the strange appeal you held for some humans, with your animal-like face, long tongue, ample tits that alluded to an udder, and your cute tail that usually sprouted from under your skirt, lifting the hem oh so slightly. They were charms you took full advantage of; despite your sweet, innocent, bovine face you knew you loved it when men used you, and you knew you loved taking control as well, usually being much stronger and heavier than your lovers.

It didn't take long before you heard Wire groan and felt hot, thick liquid sliding down your throat, but this time it was your turn to be in control. He tried to pull his cock from your mouth (notably still hard, though you would have refused to let him go regardless) but you sunk your hands into the flesh of his ass, holding him still, your wide nose pressed against his pubic hair as you looked up at him with mischievous eyes. Men who came to you for sex often made references to milk, so naturally the act of milking a man had become something you had come to love, dominating your lovers regularly, enthralled by the act of forcing humans to give you their seed against your mink instincts to only breed with your own kind. You adored overstimulating your lovers, you loved to watch them squirm, hearing them beg for mercy only to force another orgasm from them, it was your favourite. And with the pollen not letting him settle, it was all the sweeter. He tried to pull your head away but you were an immovable object, relishing his overstimulated whines as you lolled out your long tongue and let it flick against his balls while you literally suckled on his cock. His hands went from trying to pull you off to holding you against him, letting out a string of curses as you groped his ass and sucked the life out of him, forcing another orgasm from him. Not till you had every last drop of his cum did you let him go with a pop, licking your lips and giving him an innocent look as he panted and held your horns for support.

“M-more,” he groaned, almost doubling over on himself as you started to pump his still swollen cock. You wondered how many times he would have to finish before the pollen would clear from his system, how many times could he breed you before it was done with him? The thought made your thighs rub together. Naughty mink, breeding with a human, you thought to yourself, a thought that often got you hot and bothered. You wanted him to breed you, you wanted him to pump you full of cum till it had nowhere to go and dripped from your abused cunt.

His head tilted and his eyes fluttered closed, nose moving like he was taking in a scent in the air, a shiver running through him as he smelt your arousal. You wondered to what extent the pollen truly affected him, were his senses elevated too? Or only in ways that allowed him to find a mate? You didn't have much time to think on it before he was on his knees, having to bend considerably to account for his height so he could lick and suck at your thighs, pulling your knees up and pushing them to rest over the arms of the chair as he blindly sought out the source of the sweet alluring smell. He pushed up your skirt and pressed his nose right against your damp panties, butting against your clit and making you moan, as he let out his own groans at your scent.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Want you-” was all he could manage to get out as his hands ran along your thighs and pulled at your panties, “want, want-” It was like his mind had been turned to mush, all he could think about of vocalise were basic needs, and right now he needed to taste you, it was all he could think about.

He tore the fabric from your body and you both moaned as his tongue made contact, licking long stripes up your cunt, not with the aim of pleasuring you but with the aim of tasting you, gathering your slick on his tongue and drinking it down like he needed it to live. Each swipe grazed over your clit and made you jolt, your hand burying in his short hair as he lapped at you, growing annoyed as your honey was replaced with his saliva. “More!” He growled, bullying his tongue inside you to get to the source, making a satisfied hum as he did so, deaf to your pleasured moans as he drank from you. He wasn’t actively trying to make you feel good, only selfishly trying to gather all your essence, but his ministrations and groans against your sensitive flesh felt so fucking good, and soon you were pulling on his short hair and riding out your high against his face, his tongue working overtime to gather every drop that gushed from you.

His eyes were practically black as he looked up at you, unnaturally blown wide by the pollen, his need for you insatiable but at least his thirst for your honey had been quenched. His tongue ran up your body, rolling over your soft tummy and leaving a wet trail of saliva behind as he travelled to your breasts, yanking your bra down further and sucking one tit into his mouth as his large hand groped the other. He suckled at the nipple and made a disappointed whine. “What, did you expect there to be milk? Because I’m a cow mink?” you huffed, pulling his hair hard to remove him from your breast. He gave you a look that was entirely unapologetic. It wasn’t the first time a man had expected you to be lactating, it was a little offensive to be honest. “Only cows that have calved have milk, dumbass. You ever seen me running around with a baby on my arm? Tsk”

“I’ll have to put a calf in you then,” he decided, his sultry voice making your pussy clench around nothing as he raised himself higher, his face now a hair’s width away from yours. His eyes ran down your entire body, your hair messy, your cheek wet with tears from deepthroating, your clothes pulled out of place to expose your breasts and pussy, your legs still hooked over the arms of the chair to spread you wide for him. His index finger played with your pussy, pushing your slick and his saliva around before the digit slid inside you, followed by a second. He watched you closely as he began to pump your cunt slowly, expecting you to start moaning, but you only huffed in annoyance at him, which made him raise a brow.

“You gonna breed me or what then, Wire?” you asked him, and his dick throbbed at the thought. Quickly he removed his fingers from you, pumping his cock a few times to spread your slick over his member before lining the fat head up with your entrance. You were ill prepared for his girth, but you were the one who asked for it. You both groaned in unison as he sunk inside you, stretching you wide as you clawed at his back. Your tongue came out to lick at his lips, and he sucked it into his mouth, your long appendage filling it. He could feel it at the back of his throat as your tongue explored, making his eyes roll back as he began a vicious pace with the intent of pumping you full of as much cum as possible.

“Ah, just like that, fuck,” you whined, enjoying the way his massive cock filled you so well, pulling against every inch of your inner walls, rubbing right where you wanted him without even trying. “Put a fucking baby in me, Wire, fuck me till I’m fat with your calf”

“Fuck, fuck,” he groaned, “I’ll give you what you want sweet heifer, I’ll make you a mother”

His mind was heavy with lust and his judgement cloudy from the pollen as he fucked you hard and fast. He came quickly at the feeling of your hot wet walls around him, but he didn’t stop for even a moment, the pollen not letting him. The overstimulation was driving him insane, your walls clenching around him as you cooed your praises and begged him to fuck a baby into you, gushing over his cock once, twice, a third time, his pace never once letting up. Sweat dripped from his body and made you sticky, your own sweat soaking the bunched up clothes around your waist, your tits and tummy bouncing with every hard thrust he gave you. Your cunt was milking him for everything he had, Wire groaning against your shoulder as he came again, the pollen still not letting go of the tight hold it had on him. It was starting to hurt, his cock throbbed painfully from the insistent erection. Including before you’d woken, he’d cum a total of five times, and the blood still refused to drain from his cock. Groans turned to pained moans as he struggled to find the energy to keep up with his body’s needs, pistoning into you desperately. You saw the pained look in his eyes, and realised something wasn’t right.

“Wire, shh, it’s okay baby,” you cooed, “you want me to take over?”

He whined and nodded in defeat, using the last of his strength to carry you both to the bed, his hips still moving on their own accord like he truly couldn’t stop as he laid himself down with you on top of him. You stroked his face soothingly and made hushed assurances as you took over the movements, riding him hard and fast, his fingers digging into your hips. He shamelessly watched and enjoyed the way your tits bounced, reaching up to grope at them and letting out strings of curses as you purposely clamped down around his cock, trying to spur on his orgasm. It was no longer about getting yourself off, you recognised that he was hurting and he needed this to be over, so you were doing everything you could to get him to finish in the hopes the pollen would finally let go of him, otherwise you might have to consider medical intervention. His body wasn’t going to be able to handle much more, he’d already lost so much sweat and fluids, and his cock felt raw from overuse, he needed this to be over.

“Come on baby, give it to me,” you purred, hoping dirty words would put him over the edge, “give me all your cum so I can get fat with your calf and you can milk my tits whenever you want”

“Ah~ hurts- hurts-” Wire cried, treating your tits like stress balls as he tried and failed to let himself go. “Can’t- gotta cum- can’t-”

“It’s okay Wire, let go,” you cooed, tweaking his nipples to try and give him extra stimulation.

“Hmmph-” he groaned as you tugged on his pert buds, his hands coming down to grab your waist as he suddenly began to piston up into you, “fuck fuck fuck, just like that, just like that”

“Cum for me Wire,” you moaned, “breed me, hnng, gonna cum too”

“Yes, yes, cum for me,” he growled, using a thumb to rub your clit furiously and groaning as he ripped another orgasm from you, your release dripping over his abdomen, surprising you that you even had anything left to give. “Ah, good girl, good girl,” he groaned, “so tight, so good, cumming, fuck, cumming”

He held you down by your hips so your cunt was flush with his front, his cock balls deep inside you and stretching you out as he whined and creamed once more, cum spilling out from where you were connected as his body shook underneath you. “There you go baby, there you go,” you purred, Wire’s entire body going slack as he let go, panting hard as he laid against the bed. You pulled off his finally softening cock slowly, the movement making him whine in pain. His cock was red and sore, and you felt so sorry for him. Sure, it’d been fun, and you were more than satisfied, but at what cost? You carefully pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, Wire looking at you through a half-lidded, confused gaze as you checked his temperature and found that his fever had finally broken.

You winced as you slid off the bed, trying your best to right your clothes so you could pour him some water and bring the cup to him. He noticed your slight limp and looked unbelievably guilty as you helped him sit up so you could guide him to drink. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, holding your wrist carefully in his long fingers.

“You’re just big, sweetheart,” you cooed, “i’ll be okay, are you feeling alright though? The pollen did quite the number on you”

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry”

“Its okay Wire, really,” you ran your thumb over his cheek, tracing the pointed sideburn, “you needed help, I was more than happy to provide it”

Finally convinced that it was okay, he let you guide the glass to his mouth and allow him to drink, emptying the glass eagerly before you helped him lay back down. You took one of the damp cloths you’d been easing his fever with and cleaned him carefully, finding him already asleep by the time you finished. You cleaned yourself up next, stripping off your dirtied clothes and climbing into the bed beside him. He stirred for only a moment to wrap his arms around you, before you fell to exhaustion as well, tucked into his chest as he held you protectively.

[unreliablesnake]

Pairing: David “Deacon” Kay x f!reader

Note: I only saw like one season but goddammit... I had a brainrot and wrote a little something.

Warnings: age gap.

••••

“Just wait until you hear the end of the story because it gets crazier, I swear,” you said with a laugh before taking a sip of your wine.

Deacon loved the idea of just sitting there in the small restaurant near the apartment complex you both lived in and listening to you telling him those funny stories from the hospital. During these moments you were full of life and it was obvious you loved your job more than anything, so he always encouraged you to talk to him about your day.

It would have been a lie if he said he wasn't catching feelings. Because he was. And boy, did he wish you were feeling the same. Every time he saw you smile at him he wanted to pull you into a kiss, just a quick nonchalant kiss that would make him forget every problem he had. But you never showed any romantic interest in him, which soon made him realize he was dumb to assume you would ever love a divorced man his age.

He had seen your boyfriends, the young and successful titans who were ready to give you whatever your heart desired. He remembered that surgeon you dated for a while around the time he moved away from his family, the man who always gave you a ride home in his fancy Aston Martin, and the man who once yelled at you in the hallway during a nasty fight. That was the day he checked his license plate to see who he was and if he got into trouble before.

“Okay, I'll shut up now,” you said with your hands held up.

“Please, don't.” But you shook your head and took a bite of your pizza. “What's wrong?”

“You always do this. You know, asking me about my day, then watching me with this weird smile on your face, as if you were listening to the village idiot telling some funny story.”

Deacon let out a laugh while he took the glass of wine from you. “Okay, no more alcohol for you. I watch you with a smile because I love to listen to your stories.”

It was strange how he couldn’t remember when he reached out to take your hand, but when he saw your gaze move down to your hand, he immediately pulled it back with an apologetic look on his face. He could have sworn you were disappointed by the lack of contact, but he dismissed this thought immediately. If anything, you must have been relieved that he decided not to force this.

“There’s something we might need to talk about,” you suddenly said, your voice serious all of a sudden.

He let out a questioning hum to assure you he was listening, but before you could say anything, a man near the entrance began to yell at the couple sitting by the window and even pointed a gun at them. Deacon’s immediate reaction was to pull you down on the floor so you would be out of sight, then he pulled out his own weapon and told the man to drop his gun. Instead of doing that, the man pulled the trigger with shaking hands and the bullet grazed the innocent man’s arm. The woman screamed and Deacon shot the attacker without hesitation.

While he made a call to report the incident and call an ambulance, you slowly stood up and looked over at the two injured men not far from you. Even though he wanted to stop you, you sprung into action and asked the staff if they had a medical kit in the restaurant. Being a doctor meant you were ready to save whoever you could, including the attacker who was slowly bleeding out on the hardwood floor.

“Let me help,” he tried when he stopped behind you.

You turned to him with an angry look on your face before returning your attention back to your patient. “You did enough damage, Deac,” you spat.

With a sigh, he moved over to the other man and helped to bandage the wound until the ambulance arrived. His eyes wandered to you every once in a while, seeing the way you did your best to save him with the help of a waiter. He knew what bothered you. He knew you swore to save people, while his job often came with taking the life of someone. Maybe for you there was no way to get past that, and seeing him actually hurt another human being opened your eyes and made you see this contrast.

The ambulance soon arrived and the paramedics took over, leaving you standing in front of the restaurant and watching the others do their jobs. Deacon bit on his lower lip nervously as he stepped behind you and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to pull you against his chest, his face buried in your hair as he kissed your head. “Are you okay?” he asked you quietly.

You didn’t turn to look at him, you didn’t even respond to his question, but within a matter of seconds you said, “I need to wash the blood off my hands.”

He took the hint and let you go, his eyes not leaving you while you went back to the restaurant. You never returned to his side, instead you stayed inside, sitting by a table to wait for the cops to arrive and take your statement. Since he didn’t want to push you now, he kept his distance, hoping you would change your mind and talk to him about what happened.

But then a week passed and he hadn’t seen you. He briefly considered visiting you at the hospital you worked in, but he was quick to dismiss the idea. So when Hondo told him someone was looking for him, and he found you standing in the hallway, he had no idea what to say. Should he apologize? Was this what you wanted?

To his luck, you knew exactly what you wanted to say. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you away. It’s just… I know you wanted to protect the people there, I know that man shot another before you pulled the trigger, but you need to understand that I’m not comfortable with this. I knew what you do for a living, I heard the stories, but I guess you always tried to shelter me by keeping these parts to yourself,” you told him.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” was all he said to you.

You took a step closer, your eyes fixed on him as you got ready to speak up again. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about before the shooting.” He nodded, encouraging you to go on. “Maybe I’m seeing more into things than I should and I need you to tell me whether I’m right or wrong. The way you’re looking at me and touching me makes me think that you might see me as more than a simple neighbor. Or friend.”

As he took a deep breath, Deacon carefully considered what to say. He didn’t want to risk losing you over feelings you might not even reciprocate, so he cleared his throat and decided to lie. “Look, I’m much older than you. I want to believe that you’re my friend and I want to make sure you’re safe. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“Sure?”

He nodded and heard a relieved sigh leave your lips. Or was it a sigh of relief? Because the next moment you muttered something under your breath, maybe an apology, then before he could ask you what you meant by that, you put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him closer to kiss him. Your lips were soft as they moved in perfect sync with his, and his hands were resting on your waist when he moved you a little closer to him. Anything to close that almost nonexistent gap between you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, lovebirds, but duty calls,” Hondo said with a laugh when he passed by.

“We will have to talk about this,” he told you, unable to hide his smile. This was exactly what he’d been dying to do ever since that day he had his first proper conversation with you. When you nodded with a shy smile, he gave you a last quick kiss and said, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

[wickedscribbles]

if i get too loud you can shut my mouth: ch. 1

Masterlist Ch. 2 Pairing: Wade Wilson/Deadpool x Logan Howlett/Wolverine

Rating: Explicit

Tags: descriptions of violence, excessive swearing, fourth wall breaks, yearning, bridgerton season 3 spoilers, sexual tension

Word Count: 2.4K

If you like what I write and can afford to do so, please consider buying me a coffee! It would be much appreciated.

It feels like it took them ten years to get here.

In reality, it was a little less than half a year, but still – fuck.

Wade might not be two hundred years old, enduring some endless drag of time like Logan has, but he knows that every day spent orbiting one another and pretending like things weren’t boiling with unspoken tension was agonizing. Seeing Logan in those fucking flannels was agonizing. Watching him doze off on the couch. Catching the way his face softened when he smiled, ruffling Mary Puppins’ ears.

It was all such a pain in the ass.

(Thankfully, not literally, this time. Al would kill him if he brought another fight into the apartment. Even if she couldn’t see bloodstains all over the carpet, she’d sure as hell know when she stepped on one.) And Wade understood – really he did. He could see through Logan’s prickly act the second he met him in that bar. Even with what they’d been through to save the current timeline they now both resided in, Logan felt some deep-rooted urge to distance himself from people. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else. Didn’t think he had it in him to lose anyone he got close to again. That kind of cycle was hard to break.

They saw one another at the occasional get-together, now held at Al and Peter’s place. With Wade throwing himself back into mercenary work and the money getting better, that meant things inevitably getting more dangerous, so now he bunked in a one bedroom with the only girl in his life willing to put her tongue down his throat every hour of the day. That girl also sometimes threw up after eating her kibble too fast in the morning, but hey. We all have our problems.

But if Wade ever tried to hang around when the night was winding down – or if he extended an invitation to just Logan – things got sketchy. He’d always mutter some excuse about work – the old man was getting his hands dirty as a mechanic, apparently, but Wade had his resources and heard more than a few stories about the Wolverine cropping up as the months passed.

And Wade can feel it. That pulling away, that distance. Whether it’s there because Logan actually feels any sort of sense of connection between them, or because he can’t stand Wade and wants him to leave him the fuck alone, Wade can’t really tell. When he’s not in a fight, Logan’s so fucking quiet. Keeps to himself so much.

He tries not to push. The whole thing with Vanessa went south again, fast. Because he either pushes too hard, or not enough, and fuck if he can ever find a solid in between.

Spring slides into summer, sweltering.

Wish we could just walk around in a g-string when it’s fuck me degrees out here, right?

Wade sends the text to Logan one insufferable July afternoon, crouched in an abandoned warehouse. He never expects a reply. The man doesn’t exactly give off “knows how to text” energy. But hours later, his phone vibrates.

You’re nasty

Wade grins. “Exactly, big guy.”

A stupid, eager part of him can’t help but hope a little harder, after that. He could’ve just ignored the text entirely. But this was something.

He digs in his heels, thinking of anything and everything to hound the man about throughout his day.

You ever think about what these goonies are jerking it to before you cut their heads off?

Stupid shit, totally off the top of his head.

Still hotter than absolute shit, is this why you only go out in the suit at night? Think I can feel my balls boiling

Sometimes he’d get an answer, sometimes not. Either way, it was typically a short response. (Thank fuck he didn’t text like a boomer – Logan was hot, but that might have been the end for Wade’s boner regardless.)

Puppins says she misses you :(

(Don’t tell her but you’re nicer to cuddle with)

Nothing to that one. Alone in his apartment, he sighs. Mary Puppins groans her sympathy and snuggles closer into his chest.

—---------

A little over a month later, there’s an urgent knock on the door.

More like a banging.

Cops is Wade’s first half-awake thought as he slings himself out of bed, already gripping the first gun he can get to. He stashes it in the pocket of his fuzzy ducky-patterned bathrobe, getting to the peephole.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

This is somehow worse than cops.

Wade unlocks the door and Logan pours himself in, dominating the frame and almost stumbling to get inside. His eyes are wild, skin glistening with sweat. He still wearing that stupid fucking flannel, light brown and dark blue, the sleeves pushed up to the elbow like he’s personally asking Wade to fuck him.

He huffs out a few heavy breaths, blinking at the hush of Wade’s apartment like he isn’t quite understanding it.

“Hey, princess,” Wade offers up to break the silence. “You, uh, coming over for the weekly rewatch of Bridgerton? I mean, I already skipped to the good parts, but we can always –

Logan’s hand closes over his windpipe so fast that the rest of the sentence vanishes in a wheeze. Pleasure blooms somewhere in the back of Wade’s brain, and he’s almost certain that he’s hard as he’s backed up against the refrigerator. Puppins only raises her head from the dog bed to look between them, her tail wagging frantically.

“What the fuck,” Logan grits out. “You called me.”

He sort of had. After a few ignored texts, Wade’s thumb had fumbled the CALL button. There’d been a mild rush of panic before the usual tossing and turning that led him to sleep. To be honest, he didn’t even think Logan would catch that. And he definitely didn’t think that it would lead to a pissed off Wolverine storming his living space at 2 a.m.

“Sure did,” he says cheerfully, once the fingers around his throat loosen somewhat. Wade holds up his hands, trying to look innocent. “Butterfingers. My mistake, peanut.”

A maelstrom of emotions flit over Logan’s face in an instant. He drops Wade, his expression settling on something that the other man can’t read. At last he shakes his head, sighing, and turns back to the door.

“Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, then, I’ll just…”

Dude looks like a fucking kicked puppy. A tired kicked puppy that’s lived longer than most people would care to.

“Aww, c’mon,” Wade urges.

It’s hard to look sexy with a face like his, but he splays himself back against the fridge, bathrobe falling back a little to reveal what’s definitely still hard in those boxer shorts.

“When’s the last time we really hung out, huh? Mano a mano? Not since the potential end of the world – we really could watch Bridgerton, you know.”

Wade doesn’t miss the quickest flick of Logan’s eyes down to his crotch. Ohoho. Gotcha, bub.

“I don’t even know what the hell that is,” Logan growls, folding his arms.

His body language says arghhh no I’m so grumpy, don’t touch me, but his eyes are telling Wade everything he needs to know. They’re kind of nice, when he isn’t glaring at something. You know what he’s got? He’s got the deep brown eyes of a Golden Retriever.

And Wade wants to pet that puppy.

“Puppy play? Before we’ve even kissed? Girl you nasty,” Wade says out of nowhere, turning to an obscure corner of his apartment.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Wade clears his throat, pushing his chest forward somewhat.

“Anyway. Puppins loves a good period romance but we can put on whatever, if you want to stay.”

Please stay.

“What do you normally watch when you’re lurking in your apartment after a long day at the shop?”

He delivers the end of that sentence with a light Southern twang. Logan doesn’t seem to appreciate it, but he relaxes ever so slightly. Swallows. Fuck. Wade can smell the work on him too, the grease and sweat of a long day. Gasoline. There’s a smudge right under Logan’s left eye, and he really, really wants to close the distance and touch the mark. Not knowing if doing so would temporarily lose him a couple of fingers, Wade stays where he is.

“...Home Improvement,” Logan says finally.

“Jesus Christ, you would,” Wade scoffs out. “I mean that as a compliment, sweetheart – if you looked me in the eye and told me you watched Dance Moms I would keel over, regeneration or no.”

It’s clear that Logan has no fucking clue what Dance Moms is either, and maybe that’s for the best. He shuffles from foot to foot, still seeming to be stuck between wanting to stay or go.

“It’s late. I should probably –”

“Wait,” Wade interrupts. “Wait. Can I just – ask something?”

Logan gives him a little shrug, like I think you’re going to anyway, so go for it.

He hesitates, biting at a thumbnail. There’s blood underneath it, and probably not his own. With a grimace, Wade lowers it again.

“What are we doing? With the texting and the avoiding and the –?” He moves his hands around in gentle circles. Logan doesn’t quite meet his eye, but Wade isn’t finished yet. “Y’know, you save the timeline with a guy, get niiiice and cozy in the back of a Honda Odyssey –”

Logan turns a shade of pink that they both know can’t be contributed to anger. “Listen, pal – when you’re fighting sometimes that just happens –”

“Oh, okay, buddy,” Wade continues, grinning. “I know it does, believe me, I’ve been as hard as vibranium for many a fight. But I’ve never curled up next to the guy who’s trying to kill me afterward and woken up with their lips on my forehead.”

It’s all true. After truly destroying his variant’s Honda Odyssey, Wade and Logan had finally exhausted themselves into a state of sleep. And even though he’d found himself restrained by a truly impressive seatbelt arrangement, he’d come to with the heat of the other man’s body pressed fully against his own.

Holding his breath, not daring to move a muscle, Wade had peeked out of one eye to confirm it. Yes, that was the Wolverine acting as his little spoon. Minutes or perhaps hours passed before Logan shifted in his sleep, his bottom lip pressed sloppily against the top of Wade’s head. His breath was warm there. Something about the comfort of that lulled him back to sleep.

Of course, he hadn’t dared breathe a word of that. They had important shit to do and a runtime of only two hours and seven minutes.

Oh, Wade fucking adores putting that look on Logan’s face. Even better with the tinge of pink to match. How many people can say that they’ve made the Wolverine blush? Well, how many living people?

“Shut up,” Logan splutters.

“No can do, princess,” Wade says, grinning wide. “I think we both know the truth when we hear it. Even if it’s hard. Not that that’s the only thing that’s hard around h –”

This time, Wade sees Logan coming and ducks. The door of his refrigerator crumples inward with a metallic sound, things tumbling around inside as they fall.

“Fuck, I just got that, you animal!” Wade complains as he watches the LED screen on the side of the thing crackle and die. He fumbles for the gun in his robe, unsure of whether or not he’ll need it. “Do you know how much a smart fridge costs?!”

Logan’s still coming after him, claws unextended but his face a storm. “Why do you need a TV on your fucking fridge?!”

“To watch Colin and Penelope make sweet, beautiful love after three seasons of sexual tension!”

He weighs up his options. If Logan wants to make this a fight, he can’t start with the gun. Better to have some sort of melee option so the rest of the building doesn’t panic – his tableside lamp is looking like the best way to go right now, even if it was a steal at the local thrift place and gives the whole place a beautiful ambiance.

But shit, he forgot that Logan is lightning fast as well as strong. The whole fucking package. One wrist caught in another iron tight grasp, then the other, and he finds himself being dragged to the nearest wall. Pinned there.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, Logan’s face close enough to lean in and touch. That smear of grease on his cheek. The crow’s feet around his eyes. His mouth. Fuck.

“We can’t,” Logan says, his voice softer than Wade’s ever heard it.

“You’re gonna say that to me while pinning me to the fucking wall? I–”

“Listen to me, jackass,” Logan cuts him off.

Fuck, he’s so warm. He’s like a radiator. If Wade could only lean in. He’s begging at this point.

“I don’t – it’s not that I haven’t thought about –”

“My succulent body meat?” Wade suggests.

“Shut the fuck up.” He sighs, exasperated. (Wade’s dick feels that way too. How much exposition can an author shove into one fanfiction before two characters actually fuck each other, Jesus Christ?) “I’ve thought about this. But you’ve got people, and you’ve already risked your life and mine to keep ‘em safe. I don’t wanna mess that up again.”

“A noble thought,” Wade concedes. “However, if anything does threaten my oh-so-treasured loved ones, you know I’ll be right there to kick that threat’s ass, right? And that being so horny for you twenty-four/seven is severely impacting my quality of life? The vet’s saying he might have to put me down.”

The tiniest smile tugs at the corner of Logan’s mouth. He ducks his head as he does, something shy and young about it. Something hot blooms in the bottom of Wade’s stomach, and for once, it’s not the ache of sex and need. It’s the major fucking crush he has on this man. Although, at this point, he is also so hard it hurts.

Logan’s eyes flit down again, noticing that particular fact when it jumps against his thigh.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Wade.”

“Not Jesus Christ, my friend. Marvel Jesus.”

“Yeah, no one ever said that but you.”

Logan leans in and kisses him like he’s wanted to do it just as long as Wade has.

[soft-mafia]

Saved [anime!Buggy x Reader]

warnings: fem reader, fem y/n, nsfw, smut, Buggy’s a bit of a perv, Buggy detaching his penis, fingering, fisting, blowjob, piss poor ending tbh

a/n: HELLLLOOO it’s been forever, I know. My HxH fic might take a while because I worked on the prequel right before working on the main one, and I’m currently struggling on that one😭 but if I execute it correctly I feel like the burnout will pay off once I finally finish it. I’m so excited for this little trilogy I’m cooking up guys, though I can’t decide if I want to publish the prequel first or the main fic. I’m already halfway finished with the prequel and I have a lot more energy when I write it😭maybe I need to change the premise of the main fic so I have more enthusiasm with it? But anyways, I’m gonna catch up with x reader writing lol.

There was a huge gust of wind, he was yelling at his crew over something he doesn’t even remember, and before he knew it he was flying into the ocean, trapped beneath the waves. Buggy’s entire body was frozen still not from his own choice, his eyes were wide and he hadn’t even gotten a suck of breath before he was pulled beneath the water. He truly thought he was going to die at this moment.

Suddenly, he feels someone is pulling at his arm. Well, attempting to that is, he’s not exactly light and dainty. But still, they pull and fight to get him above the water and back onto the ship. Once his head can poke out of the water and he can gasp in a breath of fresh air he sees his savior; it’s his chef.

Y/n had hidden a lot of her strength when she first joined his crew however she used it whenever she saw fit. Buggy’s eyes were still wide, he didn’t know why but when he saw her with wet hair, her makeup smeared all over— it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. Buggy had already been caught taking peeks at her from time to time, especially when she’s in the middle of prepping meals for the crew. Buggy can’t help but admire her lean, yet muscular arms as she pulls him back up onto the deck with some help from the crew.

The captain was still winded though, spitting and coughing up water. He was shaking, clothes damp and heavy, still feeling weak due to being soaked with pure sea water.

“Give him some air!” Y/n ordered his crew, getting them to back away from him for a moment. The way she barked that command made it seem like she was the captain of this ship. Buggy thought he should feel threatened, but the dominance in her voice was… oddly arousing.

Those feelings of arousal were quickly washed away as he sat up, coughing up more salty sea water. He then groaned and wiggled off his soaking wet coat that felt like it weighed a ton.

“Some help you guys were!!” Buggy snapped at his crew, then grumbled and let out another cough before turning to Y/n, “Thank you.” He choked out.

Y/n smiled at him, she always had such a soft smile when she looked at him. It seemed like every time she addressed him she had bedroom eyes, a dreamy smile on her lips, painted with black lipstick.

“I couldn’t let you drown.” She said to him, she blinked softly, her dark eyelashes were enchanting.

Buggy let out a shaky laugh, then slowly pulled himself up, “I’m gonna—…” he started, nearly falling over but he quickly found his balance, “—dry myself off.”

“Let me help you!” Y/n chimed as she sprung up as well, helping Buggy to the lower decks, rushing to where they kept all of the towels, getting Buggy the ones that were already clean and sitting in the dryer.

Buggy was wrapped up in towels, he could still taste the nasty water in his mouth, and his nostrils burned lightly, “I should really stop standing so close to the edge…” he muttered hoarsely. Y/n chuckled as she dried him off, rubbing his shoulders through the towels in soft circles.

“Nothing wrong with being clumsy, Captain.” She said, which in turn Buggy gave her a look.

“I’m not clumsy! It’s the damn wind… damn seasons changing.” He grumbled, which made Y/n laugh again. His cheeks blushed a bright red, if this was anyone else on his crew saying this… he would’ve chucked them overboard instantly, however he had to admit he found himself having a bias towards Y/n, due to her being absolutely gorgeous… and being the best chef he’s ever had in ages. Buggy didn’t think he could survive without her homemade hotdogs.

Sometimes Buggy wondered, why was Y/n so eager to join his crew in the first place? She was strong, hot, she could’ve stayed on her own and worked her way up at the restaurant she was working at but she snuck into a barrel on his ship and challenged his previous chef. Y/n made him the best pot roast he ever had and it instantly won him over. She would make him tons of food, feeding him more than his other crew mates(not that he was complaining about it) but why? He shouldn’t be anything special to a woman like her, he was just a dirty old clown, but for some reason she seemed to like spoiling him with meals.

“Hey…” Buggy looked back at her, “You’re not planning to kill me are you?” He looks at her with a suspicious glint in his eyes, something that would threaten any of his subordinates, however Y/n remained calm.

“Of course not.” Y/n chuckled, “Why would you think that?” She asked, it was a question out of curiosity, not a hint of guilt or intimidation in her voice.

Buggy looked forward, “You’re just so…” he couldn’t think of what exactly he was worried about, “Confusing.” He grumbled. There was a long silence, she started to dry off his torso.

“You’re powerful in your own right, you can go anywhere you want… but yet you’re here, with me.” He continued, “And you’re so damn generous. You make the best food I’ve ever tasted.”

“Is that something to complain about?” Y/n asked, gently taking off his hat and drying off his long flowing hair(which truthfully he hadn’t washed in days).

“Well— no.” Buggy stammered, then looked up at her, tilting his head back, looking at her upside down, “But why me?” He liked to talk big, but he knew that there were far more threatening people on these seas that would seem to be of Y/n’s caliber, men out there more worthy of having someone like her on their crew.

Y/n paused for a moment, looking down at him with her glimmering eyes. She then turned away, looking like she was going to get more towels but she was just fidgeting around with them, “Why not?” She asked.

Buggy frowned, then suddenly stood up and grabbed her by the shoulders, making her face him, “CAN YOU STOP ANSWERING MY QUESTIONS WITH ANOTHER DAMN QUESTION?!” He shouted, shaking her lightly, “TELL ME WHY YOU’RE HERE!!!”

“It's because I like you!!” Y/n cried out, then suddenly pulled away and turned her back towards him, covering her face. Buggy paused for a moment, stepping back. She… what? He then noticed she was sniffling, did he make the poor girl cry? There was a soft pain in his chest when he heard those sniffles, he felt terrible.

He stepped back over to her, then turned her back around.

“This is so humiliating-” She began, but before she could get another word out, Buggy connected his lips with hers.

It was a soft kiss, but it was passionate nonetheless. However Buggy hadn’t kissed anyone since he was in his 20s, so he was a bit rusty and had to turn his head awkwardly so he wouldn’t hit her with his damned nose. When he pulled back his face was flushed a bright red. Oh I shouldn’t have done that… He knew pirates didn’t go by any rulebooks or whatnot, but he knew he had committed a dozen conduct violations.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes were wide, she looked so vulnerable and small compared to his large stature, Buggy felt more heat rise to his face, his eyes just as wide as hers. His arms instinctively squeezed around her waist, it was gentle and subtle but it pulled Y/n closer to him. Buggy realized what he was doing and quickly pulled away from her and grabbed his hat, he was quick to rush out of the laundry room. He let out a few grumbles to excuse himself although nothing coherent came out.

Buggy had locked himself away in his quarters for the rest of the evening, he was embarrassed and ashamed. Of course he always wanted to do that, everybody on his crew wanted to get a piece of Y/n, being horny pirates who haven’t seen a woman in ages before she came along and all… he sat at the edge of his bed, hands over his face as he sighed. Well if she wasn’t creeped out before she definitely is now, he growled to himself, Should I apologize? I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now-

His thoughts were halted when he heard a light knock at his door. This was around the time when Y/n would bring him dinner, which made Buggy feel even more terrible. The poor girl was probably so scared she thought she still had to make him food. The captain sighed as he stood up and made his way over to the door, opening it.

“It’s ok Y/n, you don’t have to-” Buggy was interrupted by Y/n stepping into his quarters, she then sighed and turned to look at him once she had entered.

“Was the kiss real?” She asked him, making Buggy speechless for a moment, she then spoke up again, “Or was it just a nervous reflex?”

Buggy thought for a moment, he didn’t know why he went in initially. It just felt like the right thing to do in the moment, “I-…” he felt his cheeks redden again, “Yes.” He croaked, “I’m sorry.” He said, putting a hand to his forehead.

“Don’t be.” Y/n said quietly, stepping closer to him, looking down at the floor, she then looked up at him again and put a hand to his face, cupping his jaw, his stubble prickled at her hand.

“I-… haven’t shaved.” Buggy chuckled nervously. Which made Y/n laugh and lean into kissing him on the lips, “I don’t mind.” She whispered when she pulled away.

One thing led to another, and before Buggy knew it, Y/n was stripped down to her underwear, lying beneath him on his bed. He was shirtless, his hands roamed over her body, he then pulled back and quickly slipped his gloves off with his teeth, tossing them to the side so he could get a good feel of Y/n’s body more thoroughly.

“Damn baby.” Buggy growled under his breath, making Y/n whimper and shiver. His fingers toyed around the hem of her bra strap, then he quickly moved his hands behind her to unclip her bra and toss it to the side. He lowered his face down in her chest and breathed it in.

In all honesty, Buggy didn’t care if he seemed like a perv, he was so lost in the moment that he was acting purely on instinct, though Y/n didn’t seem to mind at all, one of her legs was wrapped around his hips, her hands on his back. Her skin was cold to the touch, which took him aback at first but the warmth from his own body quickly warmed her up.

Buggy maneuvered the position and laid Y/n on her side, his crotch pressed up right against her ass, he lifted one of her legs in the air and detached his free hand, using that to move her panties to the side and rub at her clit. Her whimpers and moans were like sweet music to his ears, she was trembling against him, gasping softly. “Captain…” Y/n whimpered breathily, looking up at him.

“That’s right baby.” Buggy chuckled, watching her jolt and tilt her head back when he pushed deeper into her, groaning softly at the way her pussy swallowed his fingers. He added another one, until he got his whole hand inside of her, he thrusted in and out, she was already soaking wet, dripping onto him. Her moans grew, she panted heavily.

Buggy took his hand off of her leg to unzip his pants, fishing his cock out and letting it pop off, floating it over to Y/n’s mouth. His tip brushed against her soft lips, he gripped her chin firmly, “Open up, babygirl.” He said behind a devious grin. Y/n opened her mouth, then gagged against him as he slid his cock slowly down her throat until she took him all the way down to the base. Buggy let out a guttural grunt as her mouth squeezed around him. He thrusted his cock back and forth in her mouth while he thrusted his hand in and out of her pussy, essentially fucking her from both ends.

“You’re so fucking good.” Buggy groaned, “Letting an old clown like me use you like this…” he chuckled dryly, “You might be more of a freak than me.” He laughed. As Buggy thrusted his cock and hand in and out of her, he watched her breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts, he licked his lips, it was so arousing and it urged him to thrust deeper and faster into her throat, his balls hitting her chin as he fucked her face. Y/n’s eyes were rolled back, she was gagging and whimpering against his cock, juice splashing from her wet pussy as Buggy used her.

“Good girl…” Buggy growled deeply, “You’re being so good for your captain…” he grinned.

Buggy felt that familiar twinge in his cock, he groaned deeply, getting so close to spilling in her throat— but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to plunge inside of her. He quickly pulled his cock out of her mouth with a soft ‘pop’ from her lips before he could climax, then slid his hand out of her pussy. They were both panting heavily, Buggy’s cock hanging mid air, still hard yet dripping with her saliva. Y/n finally got a good look at it, his cock was big, veiny and girthy, with a fluff of thick blue hair feathering at the base of it, she remembered the way it had tickled her nose when he was fucking her face seconds ago.

Buggy turned Y/n’s face so she could face him, he kissed her on the lips, gently patting her on the cheek, “You can take me well, huh?” He chuckled, then his cock flew between her legs, pushing itself into her gaping pussy, making her gasp and arch her back, then let out another loud moan.

“That’s it.” Buggy chuckled, then grunted once he crammed himself deep inside, “Yes…” he moaned deeply.

He didn’t waste any time, thrusting with just as much force as when he had his cock in her mouth. Y/n gripped at the pillows, Buggy held her by the waist as their grunts and moans filled the room, his crummy bed squeaked beneath them. Buggy fucked her roughly, slamming his cock in and out of her, keeping her legs wide open for him as she trembled and squirmed. Y/n moaned his name out, whimpering and arching her back all for him. Buggy kissed her on the neck, then sucked on that area of skin, he hadn’t felt this good in so long, he didn’t know how he got this lucky.

“Captain!” Y/n moaned out again, her hips staggering, letting him know she was close.

“Just let it out baby…” Buggy groaned against her neck, “Let it all out, show me how good this cock is.”

Y/n’s pussy clenched around his cock, she came around him, coating his cock in that sweet cream. She let out a loud breath, then whimpered when Buggy continued to thrust, panting rhythmically.

Buggy was seeing stars, groaning and grunting as he plowed into Y/n, getting closer and closer to spilling out inside of her. “Can I-…” he grunted out, gasping before he could even get a word out from being so winded, “Bust inside…?”

Y/n gave him a nod, “Please.” She whimpered to him.

It didn’t take long before Buggy let out a deep grunt, holding Y/n tightly as he came inside of her, filling her up with sperm. Their sweaty bodies were pressed against each other, Buggy was so close to falling limp, it felt like all of the energy he had was drained out of him in an instant. He rolled over on his back, cock sliding out of her as his hands reconnected to his wrists.

“Holy fuck…” Buggy winced.

Y/n giggled, panting just as heavily but having more energy despite all of this. She rolled over as well and snuggled up against his side, holding his face again, noticing how he was completely flushed, his face was so red it looked like his nose was glowing too, she could help but laugh at that.

“You’re so cute, captain.” She kissed him on the cheek. No doubt the entire crew heard their love-making but Buggy was too exhausted to deal with it right now, hell he didn’t think he could even pull himself out of bed.

He turned to look at Y/n, then giggled at her, “You have a very odd taste in men.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

I'll come find you - Lewis Hamilton

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: Angst, AD 21', Niki Lauda, Lewis to Ferrari

wordcount: +1k

a/n: Was watching quali today, this season is going to be something with Mercedes as it is

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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You expected the anger, the sassiness, even the moodiness. You walked the long corridor to his driver’s room ready to let him vent, to hear him out and say nothing in return, because that was what he usually needed, someone to hear him about the frustration, how rough it’s been and how hard he was going to have to fight the next day to make the impossible look achievable.

But you were met with silence and darkness when you walked into the stuffed room, his smell the only indicator he was there.

“Hey, I brought some coffee” You tried from the little table by the corner, getting the two containers and setting them on the surface. He didn’t answer.

Lights out, shirt thrown in the chair, shoes on the floor, him sprawled in the sofa, the back of his head buried in the pillows, braids loose, his eyes stuck to the ceiling. You crawled by his side and looked at him, hands tracing the lion in his chest.

“Why did you and Niki bet on me?” He asked nonchalantly out of the blue, voice small and nothing like what you had prepared yourself for.

“Because we believed in you” You put it simply after a couple of minutes studying him, prompting your body on your elbow and looking at his face, expecting him to look back.

“Do you still?” He replied with a nasty and off-putting tone, one you hadn’t heard come from him in a very long time, his eyes now on you, daring you to answer him.

“What do you want me to tell you?” You realized then he wanted to pick a fight, maybe to get his mind off of the qualification that had gone so terribly wrong for him just a few hours ago, maybe to let out pent up frustration from the car not being where he wanted.

“You don’t get it” he huffed, looking up at the ceiling again, withdrawing back to his shell.

“I know I don’t” You said getting up from the sofa and going for the door “I’m here for you when you want, and not as someone expecting wins. I’m here as someone who loves you and wants you to do whatever it is that makes you happy.” You said into the dark room before leaving him with his thoughts.

You had no idea where to go from there, the whole team had something to do and surely you could get ahead on one of the many resumes you had to write, but you weren’t really in the mood to write yet another time how the f1 team had failed the initial concept for its car, something the Mercedes board had read a million times over in all your other debriefs from the past two year.

You end up sat at the front of Mercedes garage in the pitlane, looking out to darkness of the sky after all the lights at the circuit had been turned off. In those times you missed Niki, he would’ve known what to say, he would’ve known how to talk to Lewis, how to cheer him up. And quite honestly, those two years had been so taxing on you, playing from both ends, backing Lewis and Mercedes, trying to encourage both while still keeping it professional and private, you were slightly relieved it was the last year.

“Penny for your thoughts” The tall Austrian said looking down at you, scootching there in the corner with you like he wasn’t a giant trying to fit himself into the small crack you were trying to hide in.

“Just looking out at the sky” You mumbled back hugging your knees and giving Toto a small smile, one he didn’t even have to look at you to see wasn’t a real one. You were both there sat quietly, close but so far away from each other, the furthest ever you had been from someone you once saw as a mentor.

“Will this ever heal? Niki, 2021, Lewis?” You thought out loud, not able to contain it inside anymore.

He might had been tough about it with you in those first weeks, he even managed to not contact you for a whole month after that night in Abu Dhabi, mainly out of pride for not giving in and rushing after you when you left mere hours after the checkered flag. He held his head tall and proud walking through Brackley that winter without a clue if you’d ever come back, and even during an AMG board meeting, he kept his cool when he saw you remotely there on the screen. He broke down though when you showed up mid-march 2022, after the first 3 races with a bouncing excuse of a car.

The moment he realized you were back he couldn’t stop himself from holding you tight, and repeating to anyone around that Niki would’ve killed him if he’d lost you for good. But as much as you were taken aback by the Austrian’s response, your relationship never quite healed back to where it was before, you had gone back for Lewis and for Niki, and he knew that.

“Do you think what we’re going through has something to do with that night?” He responded with another question and looked honestly curious at what you thought.

“Not the only reason, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence either” you shrugged your answer, only to be met by a smirk.

“Niki would’ve been proud of you. How you fought for what you believed that night even when everyone thought otherwise, myself included… how you’re still fighting for Lewis, for Mercedes. I suppose it hasn’t been easy… whatever it is you two have on top of everything else, I see it in your eyes.” He offered you after a few moments of silence, taking a big breath and nudging your shoulder to get closer to you.

“I heard some of your talk to him back there, and I wanted you to know I’m always here for you, as someone who loves you. Very much so.” He said after kissing your forehead, a gesture exclusively reserved to his Wolf pack.

It was immensely odd for him to be the one opening up while his favorite chatter box kept quiet, all your emotions hidden so well. He was used to you coming to him for advices, from boys to business, but he took for granted how you had chosen him as a safe person. That was until a business decision, made in the hastiness of a crises, left you speechless and him on the receiving end of those icy and judging eyes, instead of the curious and lively one he had grown so fond of.

It had never been the same since that night, and he had no idea if it would ever be.

“I don’t hate you, you know that, right? I could never… things just haven’t really… I – I haven’t really healed from that, I guess.” You said quietly to him and to yourself, leaning your head on his shoulders, his warmth still the same home comfort you missed.

The few moments you had been allowed came to an end when a cough brought the attention to one of Toto’s assistants, awkwardly waiting by the side and clearly aware she was interrupting something.

“They need you. I’ll be fine here with my thoughts” you gave him after a few moments of him studying your face while he reluctantly left the hidden corner, accepting his fate in yet another meeting ahead.

Eventually you started to mentally prepared yourself to make your way back to hospitality, sure that whatever was going to happen in the following days and months would make them the hardest for you both professionally and privately.

“Hey, care to share the spot?” Lewis sweet voice startling you as he too found you.

“I could swear this was a good hiding place” You jokingly complained leaning in his shoulders as he sat by your side.

“I’m sorry for earlier, there’s a lot going on” His lips kissing your hair and his hand softly circling your palm.

“I’m scared, Lew… of how things have been, of how things are going to be.”

There was no circling that topic since he told you there was an offer for him at Ferrari, you both knew then that your lives would change, dramatically. Your relationship was by no means secretive, but it had developed in the comfort of a team that went out of its to help keep it private. Ferrari was a dream, and you shared his passion for the history of motorsports, but his move meant you had to learn how to be his partner without also being in his team.

“You remember the night I told you I loved you, the very first time in LA?” You raised your head to look at him, trying to understand where he was coming from with the question, nodding you head and humming a “hm mm”.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you that, but I decided I had to tell you when I woke up really early in the morning with Roscoe snoring that day, and you were so quiet and still in that bed when I looked over, I froze for a few seconds." He swallowed at the confension as you attentively watched his features show how bad that had affected him.

"I don’t care if you’re my boss or if you’re wearing my rival’s shirt, when it comes to you all I care about is your wellbeing.” The story and how worried he was to make that night perfect now all the more meaningful to you as he tried to bring you as close as possible in the small space.  

“These past two years have not been easy for us and there’s no guarantee the next ones will be any easier, but as long as you’ll allow me, I’ll come find you, anywhere.”

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