Tumgik
#X vs. A Masterlist
embodyingchaos · 8 months
Text
(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) michael cera masterlist
last updated: 29th september, 2023 newest: on-set, off-set (m. cera x actor!fem!reader!)
rules for requesting: ✮ disclaimer: i do not do smut, i can do dark themes such as stalking, etc. requests are open.
Tumblr media
scott pilgrim(scott pilgrim vs. the world) - none yet. allan(barbie) - none yet. evan(superbad) - none yet. george michael bluth(arrested development) - none yet. michael cera(this is the end) - none yet. paulie bleeker(juno) - none yet. michael cera on-set, off-set genre: michael cera x actor!fem!reader, fluff, established relationship warnings: none, just goofyness, BUT THIS IS VERY UNEDITED synopsis: a small look at michael and y/n on working together for the barbie movie.
Tumblr media
104 notes · View notes
ashwhowrites · 1 year
Text
We've created something evil, sinful, and fucking hot
⚠️ smut
Tumblr media
The collection of Bratty Eddie at your fingertips...
Brat- requested- Eddie likes to be a brat to get punished (smut) (popular favorite)
Brat vs belt- Bratty Eddie is back- requested -(popular favorite) (writers favorite ⭐)
No touch- Eddie can't touch his girl
Cuddle time- requested - Eddie wants to take a nap with mommy, when she doesn't show up he thinks he's getting punished (angst)
Reward- requested - Eddie earns a reward for being mommy's good boy
Bratty Eddie's ex- Eddie fucks up, and sees his mommy in a new way (angst to smut to fluff)
Tease- Eddie gets teased over his jeans
Soft mommy aftercare (requested)
Tit sucking (requested)
Touching- Eddie touches himself
Helping mommy- requested - Eddie wants to help Mommy when she had a long day
holiday specials
Mistletoe
Wooden spoon
Valentine's day
305 notes · View notes
dollwritesarchive · 2 years
Text
⟪ ♱ ┈ ɳҽσɳ ɱσσɳ αυ ⚬
Tumblr media
featuring ; vampire!dick grayson x human!reader ( f ) x vampire!jason todd ( other characters may make some appearances )
content warning ; each piece will have separate warnings but general warnings for dark fic— nonconsensual & abusive behavior. vampire antics, tons of blood, nonstop smut, group sex, mind control, etc etc.
summary ; vampires aren’t real. you knew they couldn’t be real. you’d not been afraid of Hollywood’s blood sucking monsters since you were a little kid. maybe you should’ve been. maybe, just maybe, things would be different if you had been.
disclaimer ; once again, this is a dark fic. nonconsensual smut and abusive elements will be present. minors are not welcome to interact. please do not continue if you have no interest in dark fics; i am not responsible for your media consumption.
are requests / asks open for this au ; yes!
playlist // asks // moodboards // inspiration
𝙗𝙡𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙨
bite mark headcanons
𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙗𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙨
𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨
hell awaits ( coming soon! )
𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙨
slumber party **
** — crucial to the au’s storyline!!
780 notes · View notes
holylulusworld · 11 months
Text
God vs the Devil masterlist
Tumblr media
Summary: God and the devil are after you. Someone messed shit up and you are on the run from a bounty hunter and a mercenary.
Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader x God
Warnings: angst, chasing, scared reader, language, mentions of characters death, kidnapping, hostage situation, arguments, Lloyd being Lloyd, fighting, possible smut in future chapters
Tumblr media Tumblr media
God vs the Devil (1) - Crash, boom, bang
God vs the Devil (2) - His prey
God vs the Devil (3) - On the run
God vs the Devil (4) - Another one bites the dust
God vs the Devil (5) - Theirs?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
95 notes · View notes
solitaryearthperson · 7 months
Text
Predator/Alien vs. Predator/Yautja Masterlist
Tumblr media
*Series have 3 or more parts to them*
Imagines
none yet
Series
Need A Hero - All 8 Parts here *Finished*
More to Come....
51 notes · View notes
cerebellam · 2 years
Text
Something Worth Living For (Ash Williams x Reader) - Masterlist
Tumblr media
Summary: Ash and his friends cross paths with you one night and manage to save your life. You then find yourself swept up in the world of deadites and the necronomicon...and a certain charming chainsaw-wielding older man.
Here is the masterlist of what has been written so far! Feel free to like or reblog to stay updated. Enjoy, and as always– thanks for reading! 
Inspiration Playlist | AO3 Link
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 
Chapter 3
Chapter 4 
Chapter 5 
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 (Coming Soon!)
195 notes · View notes
reveluving · 2 years
Text
masterlist ; joel kinnaman & char.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
˚ · . RICK FLAG
the lady in the middle* (ft captain syverson)
Why choose between two of the hottest veterans when you can have both?
lovememore (+ sequel!*)
Belle Reve or not, Rick is already content when you’re around.
‘rick flag vs the triple frontier boys’ series ; 1, 2, 3, 4*, 5*
You’re unaware that your old friends, the Delta Boys, are taking a liking to you. The problem? Rick Flag is your husband. (#rick flag vs the triple frontier boys)
hold me closely (flag family series) ; 1, 2, 3
'Cool, calm & collected' is how many describe the Flags, and they're right. To a certain degree, at least.
˚ · . STEPHEN HOLDER
in the fall (+ prequel!)
Life is tough but that’s okay — you two have each other.
˚ · . ED BALDWIN
love language*
Ed wants you to teach him your native language.
velvet (ft gordo stevens) [preview]
Ed’s interest in his best friend’s fiancée comes to light, but in the best way possible.
little one
Ed comes home to his little family.
private time*
You & Ed fool around when the girls leave for the park.
late night heart attacks
You & Ed are in for a surprise, quite literally.
˚ · . TAKESHI KOVACS
love again*
Seeing Takeshi smile is rare, a privilege only you have.
Tumblr media
˚ · . back to full m.list , kudos to @ed-baldwin for the gif! ❤
145 notes · View notes
Text
Yandere Neighbor Wars
Different head-cannons and fanfics of just the concept of your neighbors being lovingly obsessed with you. Problem is the only real rival is just across the way...but anyone well versed Yandere 101 knows not to kill your neighbor. Too many eyes, too suspicious, and just as determined to get their hands on you.
BNHA
Kiribaku vs Tododeku: Gingerbread Houses
Kirishima vs Bakugo: Decoration
Kirishima vs Midoriya: Missing Something
Bakugo vs Midoriya: Moving In
Bakugo vs Midoriya: Movie Ticket for Me?
Midoriya vs Kirishima: The Little Cousin Has Joined The Party!!
Tomura Shigaraki 🎮✋🏻 vs Dabi 🪡🔥: Less Than Safe
Black Butler
Sebastian Michaelis🍴vs Claude Faustus🕷: Take My Child Please!
Kimetsu No Yaiba
Daki 👩🏻‍🌾and Gyutarou 😈vs Uzui Tengen 💎& wives🥷🏻
Twisted Wonderland
Leona Kingscholar 🦁vs Malleus Draconia 🐉: Boundaries...There Are None
Seraph of the End
Mika Hyakuya 🩸 vs Ferid Bathory🧛🏻 : Dormitory
102 notes · View notes
sani-chan · 7 months
Text
Star vs. the Forces of Evil
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
18 notes · View notes
princess-sof-time · 9 months
Text
Star vs. the Forces of Evil
Tumblr media
Comforting the reader (Star, Marco, Tom)
6 notes · View notes
the-pale-goddess · 2 years
Text
Open Heart as Netflix Original Series - Episode Guide
Tumblr media
Season 1
Episode 1: The Doctor Is In + Episode 2: Code Blue
Episode 3: Hanging in the Balance + Episode 4: Dolores
Episode 5: Relief + Episode 6: Housewarming
Episode 7: Patient X + Episode 8: Make-Believe
Episode 9: The PITA + Episode 10: Risk & Reward
Episode 11: Whatever It Takes   + Episode 12: Panacea 
Episode 13: Admission + Episode 14: Triage
Episode 15: Hearing Impaired + Episode 16: The Curious Case of Dr. Banerji 
Episode 17: The Oath + Special Episode: S1 After Hours
___
All templates by: @ seungnm
32 notes · View notes
Star vs the force of Evil masterlist
Tumblr media
Tom-
Tom x Jenna headcanons
Jenna-
Tom x Jenna headcanons
3 notes · View notes
chuluoyi · 1 month
Text
✎ stupid liar
Tumblr media
- gojo satoru x reader
no way. impossible. you couldn't possibly be jealous of gravure idol gojo likes so much now... or could you?
genre: jealous!reader vs slightly jealous!gojo, crack, and obviously, fluff !!
note: based on this post :))
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
Tumblr media
"Look, Suguru~ Isn't she pretty?"
Your eye twitched at the sing-song voice, lips twisting into a scowl as you glanced at him from the corner of your twitching eye.
No. You don't care. Not in the slightest.
You stabbed your fork into your cheesecake with more fervor than necessary though.
"Eh?"
"Inoue Waka!" Satoru exclaimed with an enthusiasm that felt almost too bright. "This is her in her newest issue!"
‘Newest issue’ being a bikini special, with the said model lay sprawled in the most revealing piece possible. That indecent photo had also become the wallpaper and lockscreen on your boyfriend's phone, and he shamelessly showed it off with pride.
You steeled yourself. Again. No. It's not a big deal. You weren't jealous, especially not over some... heavily-altered picture of a porn actress!
"Ahh, she does look nice..."
You attacked your now-mutilated cheesecake again, feeling your mood plummet further after hearing Suguru's response. Now you were convinced, all men are dogs!
"—but not exactly my type," he added quickly, his gaze darting towards you. His interest lay more in your reaction, which was why he stirred the pot further: "Is she your type, Satoru?"
Your boyfriend, whether oblivious or intentional, erupted into giddy laughter like a kid. "Ehh... why of course!"
His enthusiastic agreement seemed to echo louder in your ears than it probably should have. The cheesecake, once a treat, now felt like lead in your mouth.
That's it. One more time and—
But then, Suguru's voice cut through your irritated thoughts again, clearly amused. "Well, but I've always thought real beauty lies not just in appearances but in strength of character. Wouldn't you agree, Satoru?"
You knew it, Suguru was indeed the best. You dared to glance up from your plate, curious about your cocky little clown’s response. But you really shouldn't, because Satoru, the absolute cretin he was—
"Why are you getting philosophical all of sudden?" he sullenly grumbled. "Important thing is if she's hot, then she is hot." You could have sworn he briefly side-eyed you before saying, "And no one is hotter than Inoue Waka."
Stupid. Idiot. Insufferable.
Standing up, your patience dissipated into thin air. Your brisk pace made Shoko, who was beside Suguru, to quirk an eyebrow. "Oh, leaving already?"
"I'm going back. Have a practice."
"Ehh? You didn't say?" only now did your shameless boyfriend turned to you fully. "It's still break time—"
"Nanami is waiting for me, goodbye."
You didn't look back even once, too annoyed to notice that Satoru was gawking at your words.
Tumblr media
Satoru couldn't believe this. You ignored him. You actually did… in favor of Nanami!
He was starring daggers at how the two of you conversing so amiably across the hall. You were his girlfriend already, but he could barely able to make you look as sweet as you were with Nanami just now. You were always prickly with him!
Okay, but rest assured—with Suguru he may have doubts, but with Nanami, he was convinced he outshone him by a wide margin, perhaps even ten or twenty times over!
"Why are you sparring with him?" he was sulking when he caught you on the way back to the dorms after school. "Why not Haibara instead?"
You scoffed. "And why do you idolize Inoue Waka and not Yuzuki Tina?"
Oh, so that's what this is about. Suddenly, he didn't feel as miffed as a stupid grin split his face. "Ooh, you're looking into gravure idols too?"
"..."
"Heh, if you're doing it for research purpose, that's totally okay~"
"..."
"Pfft, you're so jealous it's so great to watch—"
You halted abruptly, your annoyance now at its peak. Facing your infuriating boyfriend, you leveled a piercing glare at him that caught him off-guard. "Gojo, from today onwards, we're having a ban."
"Whoa, hey—"
"—and in the meantime, you can print Inoue Waka out of your phone, hang her in your dorm and kiss your wall instead—"
"Just a minute!" Satoru interjected, eyes rounded with slight alarm. "Don't be too hasty!"
He looked at you, really looked at you, and saw that you were actually upset.
A twinge of... what is it? Some kind of guilt, he supposed, pricked his chest. He didn't like seeing you like this, especially knowing he had played a part in it. You should be smiling sweetly and catching his heart with it, not frowning like this.
"Hey," he started, his voice softening as a small, sincere smile crept onto his face. You continued to look away, a stubborn pout fixed on your lips. Darn it, how did you manage to look cute while angry too?
"Look at me, I'm all yours, okay?"
That got you to shoot him a sharp glance, and boohoo!—the ice in your heart thawed slightly as you met his smile, which soon evolved into a toothy grin.
But then, in one swift strike, he pulled his phone out and took a snap of your very-not-ready face.
"Satoru!" you screamed in panic, trying to climb over him to pluck his phone. "No! Delete that!"
"Ah ah," he crisply snickers, raising his hand with the phone high above where you couldn't reach. After pressing a few buttons, he triumphantly showed you his phone screen, now displaying your flop picture in all of its glory.
"That's seriously awful!" you grimaced, a look of horror in your face. "Satoru, for real—"
“You’re adorable,” he countered almost immediately, his smile wide and unabashed—the very winning smile that won your heart. “My girl is cute as heck and you know what the best part is? She’s mine.”
. . .
—okay, you were now positively melting. This was irritating, how can you forgive him this easily?
You huffed, raising your chin high to cover the very sizzling heat in your cheeks. "Hmph. Keep that photo then. But I'm still sparring with Nanami though."
"Mm-hmm, whatever. I hope his foul hairstyle won't affect you—"
"Don't badmouth him! Wait, don't tell me... you feel threatened by him?"
"Wha? Why would I!? I have the better face, better wallet—!"
Together, you walked back to the dorms, the evening air somehow felt lighter around you. Satoru's hand found yours along the way, and the two of you kept up a playful banter, followed by shared giggles afterwards.
. . .
What you didn't realize, however, was that there was another reason behind Satoru's happy laughter... his secret little mission had been a smashing success~
Tumblr media
Epilogue
“I put too much faith in Y/N. I’m disappointed.”
“We are paying Gojo, damn it.”
Suguru and Shoko let out collective sighs, looking at the two of you. They witnessed your little outburst and that sealed everything.
You used to not give in to so easily. Unfortunately now, you were whipped for that idiot too, enough to get jealous over him.
As Suguru opened his wallet, a realization struck. “Shoko, now that I think about it… why am I always losing these bets?”
“You could just suck… or maybe," she glances him over before letting out a snort. "Your bangs just bring bad luck?”
3K notes · View notes
lewisvinga · 2 months
Text
the designer vs. the model | charles leclerc x fem! reader
summary; fans begged and begged fashion icon and designer y/n to help charles out, luckily for him, she gave him the girlfriend effect
fc; jennie kim
warnings; ?
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs
note; requested !
masterlist !
Tumblr media
liked by yourbestfriend, and others
yourusername: cannes film festival; the design, before & after 🎀
username: AN ICON
username: i knew she’d eat this gala up😩
yourbestfriend: my beautiful talented best friendddd😻
yourusername: hehe love u xx
username: her talent needs to be studied
username: pls style charles_leclerc he needs help
username: studying fashion to be just like y/n!
username: y/n we need your talent on the f1 grid specifically in the ferrari garage specifically charles_leclerc
username: heyyy girl, u gonna need to share your styling talents w a certain monegasque 😁
username: oh i just know she’d give charles the girlfriend effect
username: STYLE CHARLES_LECLERC
yourusername: whaaaa ö
Tumblr media
liked by pierregasly, yourusername, and others !
charles_leclerc: new profession: photographer
username: omg y/n liked!
username: we bullied him into only wearing sweatshirts and jeans omg 😭😭
username: thats what he gets for his horrendous style…
pierregasly: imagine you as a photographer 😂
charles_leclerc: hey! i’m not too bad!
username: yourusername pls help this poor man , he has very poor fashion taste🙏
username: ok this fit isn’t too bad, plain! but not that bad!
username: yourusername mother pls help father out
yourusername: i think the people want me to style you , haha !
charles_leclerc: my style can’t be that bad, no?
yourusername: it could use some improvement…
charles_leclerc: well, i’m open for suggestions!
yourusername uploaded to their story !
Tumblr media
[caption 1; don’t worry ladies and gentlemen, we’re gonna make sure he has a good wardrobe 😇!] [caption 2; designing n making some new pieces for his closet 😵‍💫]
charles_leclerc uploaded to their story !
Tumblr media
[caption 1; the forced smile after i showed her some outfit ideas…] [caption 2; her real smile after i got her a latte for being patient w my poor fashion skills😁
Tumblr media
liked by yourusername, carlossainz5, and others !
charles_leclerc: photo dump , but do you notice any new fashion improvements ? 😁
yourusername: much better than those horrendous blue and white pants …
charles_leclerc: they weren’t that bad
yourusername: cha…… they were horrid
username: wait…. he fr looks good
yourusername: he’s got a pretty face but thats just enhanced by the better fashion sense!😁
charles_leclerc: u think i’m pretty?😊
yourusername: ur my prettiest model
username: OH HELLO
username: hes 100% dating y/n bc thats an improvement from that horrid blue outfit 😭
username: muy buenos días y que vivan los hombres 😍 [very good morning and long live men]
username: his style is improving, everyone cheered!
username: the sigh of relief i just let out
carlossainz55: mate, you have everyone relieved from your new fashion improvements 🤣
charles_leclerc: and i can see why after i looked at my old outfits…
Tumblr media
liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, and others !
yourusername: the designer vs. the model 🌸
tagged; charles_leclerc
charles_leclerc: where would my closet be w/o you, chérie…
yourusername: unfortunately, seen in the public
charles_leclerc: my favorite and the most prettiest designer ❤️
yourusername: you’re my favorite and the most prettiest model 💞
username: oh my goodness gracious me
username: STOPP THEYRE SO CUTE😖😖
username: she got him a good pair of glasses thank u queen y/n
username: them at the basketball game together 🥹🥹🥹🥹
username: we’re abt to get the best charles outfits thank u y/n😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏
yourbestfriend: watch your back sharl she was mine first
charles_leclerc: womp womp she’s mine now
yourusername: ladies, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around ( btw yourbestfriend come over asap i need to do another fitting on u )
2K notes · View notes
skzdarlings · 1 month
Text
bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader
original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.
masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.
enjoy! <3
-
Sure, you are a little insufferable. 
But Lee Minho is worse. 
He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 
You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    
He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.
You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.
“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”
His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 
“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 
You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.
It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 
You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 
“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 
He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 
You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 
But, ugh.
He is right there. 
Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 
By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 
Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 
As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 
Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 
“One race,” you say. 
“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 
“Why not?”
“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.
“That’s not an answer,” you say.
“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 
“Wait,” you say. 
You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 
“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 
“I don’t need your money,” he says.
“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 
Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 
“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 
Oh.
You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 
It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 
The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 
Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 
“Not me,” you snap. 
His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 
“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 
He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 
“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 
“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.
He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 
“Fine,” he says.
By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   
You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.
“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”
Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 
He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 
The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 
-
He wins.
Of course he wins.
You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?
You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   
Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 
Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 
Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 
Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 
He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.
“Do-over,” you say.
“Absolutely not,” he replies. 
“You got in my head on purpose.” 
“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.
“One more race,” you insist. 
“You have nothing left to bet.”
“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 
You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 
“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 
You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 
You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 
“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 
“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”
You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   
He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 
“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 
You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 
“Now, now,” he says. 
“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 
He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.
“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 
You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 
“I heard you,” you say. 
He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 
Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 
You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 
It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 
“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 
“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 
It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”
“No, there isn’t.” 
“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   
Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 
“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 
Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 
“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 
“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 
“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 
He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 
“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 
“Good,” he says, then stands back. 
You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 
Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 
Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 
Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 
“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”
Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 
When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 
“Well?” he says. 
You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 
“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 
He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 
His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.
Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 
When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 
“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.
You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 
“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   
The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”
“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 
-
It is a perfect draw. 
You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 
Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 
“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 
He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 
“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 
Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 
You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 
It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 
He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.
“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 
You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   
“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”
“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 
“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 
1K notes · View notes
angrythingstarlight · 11 months
Note
Baker!Bucky hitting on Peach, despite her being a sure thing: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRKYtuGK/
- 🏥
Baker!Bucky has a filthy mouth yet he's somehow still shy. He will spout off the most inappropriate, raunchy joke and have the nerve to blush like you're the one who came on to him.
Tumblr media
Pairing: Chubby!Baker Bucky x Reader with a side of baker!Steve vs Honey.
WC: Less than 900
AN: Written on my phone. Unbeta'd.
↬Sweeter Than Sugar Masterlist
Tumblr media
Tumblr media
Bucky has been leaning on your shoulder for the better part of an hour now. He’s five drinks in and feeling good. He’s also completely ignoring the rest of the table. Which is too bad.
While he’s staring at you and reverently stroking your hair, he’s missing the way Steve is glaring at Honey.
And the fiercely relentless way she’s glaring right back.
Neither have said a word since they both sat down. You bet Wanda 20 bucks that they’re going to hook up in the bathroom before the night’s over.
“Peach,” Bucky whispers in your ear, his lips brushing over your skin as his words slur together. “You’re so pretty. And soft. And pretty.”
You hum in response, distracted by what's happening between your friends, eyes widening when Steve slams his drink down and stands. Honey pushes her chair back, planting her hands on the table, meeting his gaze with a sneer.
Bucky says your name again. “You wanna know why you’re my favorite donut?” He mumbles, nuzzling your neck, his soft beard grazes your shoulder.
Did he just call you a—”
What?" Tearing your gaze from the silent, intriguing drama unfolding across the other side of the table, you stare at Bucky with blatant amusement.
He gives you a dopey grin, his round cheeks lifting as the corners of his eyes crinkle. So damn pleased hes finally gotten your attention on him.
“Is ‘cause you look so good when you’re all glazed and creamed filled, Peach.” He tops off his audacious statement with a kiss on your shoulder.
“Excuse me?” You choke on air, coughing slightly. You tamp down a laugh, clearing your throat. Heat fans up your chest and you discreetly glance around the table, grateful all the attention is still on Steve and Honey. “Bucky, you can’t say things like that in public. People might hear you.”
He shrugs, his hand slides down your side and grabs your thigh, squeezing once before his fingers slip between them.
“So juicy and sweet,” he groans, his head lolling on your shoulder. “I ever tell ya that love eating you. I can do it for hours. Hours Peach. S’good.”
“Bucky, you also can’t talk about me being juicy and sweet.” You clamp your hand around his wrist, stopping him before he reaches his target.
His disappointed sigh sends another pulse of laughter up your throat, this one spilling out before you can stop it.
“Peach, that’s mine,” he gently reprimands, frowning at your hand. “Ya can’t keep her from me, ya know she needs me.” Bucky lifts his head, a deep flush sweeps up his cheeks as he blinks, his bleary blues focusing on you. A brief moment of clarity slips through his drunken haze. “And why are you talkin’ about her in public?”
“Me? You’re the one who was going on about turning me into a creamed-filled donut?” You tease, tapping his nose with your finger.
“Peach—”
You kiss him, his words tapering off into a content moan, his thumb brushes across your cheek. The sweet cherry whiskey on his tongue drifts across you. You love the way he tastes and you lean into him, greedily deepening the kiss until he's all you can feel.
“Later,” you promise, nipping his bottom lip before pulling back. You look up just in time to see that Steve is walking off. Honey is going after him. You can’t hear what she said, but now she's backing up and Steve is going after her.
Oblivious to everything but you, Bucky slips his free arm around your side.
“Okay,” he grumbles under his breath, his hand slowly creeping up your thigh. You grab his wrist and he lets out a soft, mournful why followed by an even sadder give her back when you push it over to where you have his other hand trapped.
“Later.” You squeeze his wrists, keeping them in place. It's hard to keep the smile off your face when he exhales through his nose, his lips forming a barely there pout. "I mean it."
Bucky goes silent, slumping in his seat. You turn your attention back to Honey, who’s halfway across the room. Steve is a step behind her.
Oh, it’s about to go—your thoughts screech to a grinding halt because Bucky isn't done with you.
Lips graze your ear.
He escapes your grasp.
Thick fingers flex and dig into your thighs.
“Hey, Peach. Peeeeach,” he whispers loudly, shifting closer. "Did–did I tell ya why you're my favorite donut?"
Arching a brow, your eyes cut to him. “Cause I look good when I'm glazed and creamed filled?” You dryly intone with a smirk.
Your mouth drops open in disbelief as your drunk boyfriend gasps and looks around. His blush deepens and spreads across his shocked face until his cheeks are a fiery red. “Peach. Please. You can’t say stuff like that here." His scandalized tone lowers and he leans in with a hopeful grin. “You do though. I'll do that to you. If you want me to. Or I can just eat you. Unless you want me to fill you up and then eat—”
"We should go," you laugh. Giving one last look at Steve storming after his girl, you send a quick text to Wanda to tell you everything.
Bucky continues his hrny yet sweet ramblings. By the time you’ve dragged him out of the bar, he’s described thirty-six different ways he can glaze you, fill you, and eat you.
Each one is more interesting than the last and you’re making mental notes to remember everything he’s saying.
Sober Bucky is going to enjoy all of drunk Bucky’s naughty fantasies.
So will you.
4K notes · View notes