#big one. and it's more likely for me to finish it. if i. do not have to waste like 3 hours of my day getting ready for class

[sanjisblackasswife]

JJK Men with a GF with a Fat Ass (NSFW-ISH)

…I’m taking a small break from drawing and I missed doing HCs. Shaddap.

Ft. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso

Black ! Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Twt Links!, mentions of sex, men are a bit OOC

Gojo

Gojo definitely does this to you anytime you lay on his lap. And if he finds out you’re not wearing any panties under it…welp..all plans are now cancelled

He’s a pervert and it’s your fault.

He’s never really seen women of your stature often so when you both were younger he was so BLUNT with his thoughts about your body.

“You have a very voluptuous—“

“Imma stop you right there….VO-WHO?”

“You don’t know what the word vo—-“

“No, I know. I’m confused as to why you are using that word when talking about my ass.”

Gojo is 6’6-7” , he’s a big nigga, but can he handle a big behind?

No.

No he cannot.

He constantly uses his blindfolded eyes to shamelessly watch the way your walk across the room in public. His poker face is actually impressive, but if you couldn’t see how tight his fist were in his pockets it’d prove otherwise.

He’s so hot damn childish he does this shit sometimes because he thinks your ass is perfect for playing on

“CAN YOU STOP.”

“Whhhyyyyuuuhhhhhh.”

When you wear moomoo’s or a big shirt it is his favorite

Yup.

Moomoo.

Your ass is free to move and shake to its desire and he just watches in awe. He loves you bad.

Another thing he loves doing is napping on your butt, he doesn’t sleep often, unfortunately, but he can attest that the best nap he has ever taken was in between your plush thighs and ass.

He blames his pretty little girlfriend as to why he is now an ass man.

Geto

He takes these kinda pictures with you which sometimes leads to him pulling down your underpants and massaging it with his bare hands to then licking or kissing it to then…eating…you…out…while you’re standing.

He loves watching you put on clothes.

Having to shake, jump, and wiggle yourself into some pants is actually so sexy to him.

If your butt is anything like mine and is HEAVY. He LOVES it even more , watching the way the movement in your butt and thighs to match is something Geto finds so so mesmerizing.

One thing about Geto he’s very sneaky, he’ll come up behind you to help pull up your bottoms you clearly need no help putting on, and everytime he does you can feel a slight pressure on your ass that is a verrrryyy familiar feel to a bulge.

He can’t help it, your ass is so pretty.

Sitting on his lap is a must, whether he is talking with someone in public or doing some work he needs to feel your weight on him.

The first time you sat on his lap you swore you heard a groan. When you turned to ask him if he was okay, his cheeks were very pink.

He denies it to this day, but even if he did it’s your fault because why does your ass feel so good against his pelvis?

Showers with Geto are so insufferable in the best way because once you finish cleaning yourself your long haired boyfriend can’t wait to practically grind and jump against the cool shower wall.

He definitely loves hugging you from behind, swaying you back and forth. To others it’s a cute gesture seeing such a big man hold you so close, practically dwarfing you , you only you and him know the real intention begin it was just him whispering how good you look in that dress and how badly he wants you.

Geto is such a sensual person next to nanami. Even after sex and you’re laying with him in a bliss he finds his way to continue his love by kissing and licking you down and praises of how beautiful and sexy you are even after such activities. He calls it “Cleaning you up”…little perv.

“‘Was wrong?… Embarrassed?”

“YES.”

“Good, now c’mere.”

Toji

Ass eater.🫵🏾

That’s an ass eater he eat ass🫵🏾.

Toji “Ass Eater” Fushiguro

You thought gojo was shameless? Toji is WORSE

As an ass connoisseur he prides himself on always reminding you how fine you are to him.

“You like my dress?”

“Hell yes, mama. Turn around for me.”

SWAT to the ass just to see it recoil

He definitely slaps and GRABS. It’s kinda hot though because he’ll do it anytime anywhere

For example you went with him to some horse racing game for him to make bets and got hungry so you headed to grab a few drinks and snacks. Before walking past him, his legs were spread, tooth pick in his mouth and just like clock work you feel a firm hit to your Jean covered behind.

“OOWWUH!”

“Sssh, Baby im watchin the game….what? Your ass was all in my face what else could I do?”

Whether you are a chunky girl or a skinny girl with a larger butt he don’t care he quite actually is your biggest fan.

Of course Toji being the ass eater he is almost every other night is spent just like this or sitting on his face. He never seen himself as a pleasure son kinda guy. With his one night stands he only had sex for himself, but with you of course being the first woman he finally got to love after MamaGuro he takes his time with you. It’s a slutty sight but he knows it’s exactly that can get you off before him

Toji is your new seat btw.

Not just his pretty face but his lap too.

He’s a big strong man so don’t EVER think or assume you’re too heavy for him.

Nanami

This man here.

A KING.

Freaky king but a king none the less.

He loved every part of you.

Which is what he does say and prove everytime you both are together but he does have a small little quirk about him that you aren’t sure whether or not to point it out

Most men guide their woman by putting their hand on their lower back

Nanami however does this

ESPECIALLY on date night.

Just like Geto he loves to watch you dress, but also dresses you himself

“Wear this, yes? It compliments your skin beautifully.”

“You sure it’s not, because it’s a bit tighter below the waist?”

And now hes blushing.

He’ll admit. Whenever you come and visit him during lunch to feed him a home cooked meal he hates to see you go but LOVES to watch you leave.

Especially with that sundress you wear during the spring.

Nanami definitely is another man that will practically BEG for you to sit on his face.

“It’s okay, baby honest. Use my face.”

“Kentoooo—!??”

One of his favorite ways to eat you out is like this. It was actually so embarrassing for you at first only because of his SLUTTY MOANS. Which was something you wouldn’t expect from a man like him, but you wasn’t complaining!He whined and whimpered so shamelessly inside you, you couldn’t even make eyes contact after cumming on his tongue.

Choso

Lord bless him.

He is very….confused to say the least.

He never understood the attraction of women’s part.

Of course he found YOU attractive, but that was all over until he seen your shape.

“Oh.”

“…oh?”

“You—“

You usually wore baggy clothing like him. You decided to change really quickly at his new apartment and he was watching you.

Who knew you had a BODY LIKE THAT on you

“You’re sex—cute…”

Choso isn’t necessarily a shy man, but more hesitant when it comes to touching and complimenting you…

You’ve told him time and time again he is free to touch you when he wants but you sometimes have to guide him.

Usually when he wants to grab your ass he walks DANGEROUSLY close behind you.

So a few times you take his hand and place it on your cheek. For a moment he just rubs his hand across the soft skin and then SQUEEZE.

Choso loves to kneed and rub on your ass while he licks you so usually it’s 69 or you laid to your side.

Another things he actually loves seeing you in are sweats with a small top. Your lower body being heavier than the top is so attractive and you look so squeezable he can’t help but to hug you from behind

Please. Please PUH LEASE wear thigh high socks around him the ones that go RIGHT UNDER the cup of your ass and shake it JUST A LIL in front of him.

Moans at the sight everytime

No like literally MOANS by just looking at your ass jiggle.

He doesn’t think he’s a pervert but from how he grinds and jump against your ass while you sleep says otherwise.

If yall are wondering why I didn’t really speak on backshots it js because ALL OF THEM GO FERAL DOING IT.

#black reader #gojo #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #jjk headcanons #gojo saturo #geto #gojo x reader #jjk smut #gojo x black reader #jjk x black reader #jjk toji #gojo x y/n #toji #nanami headcanons #nanami smut #choso headcanons #Choso smut #jjk x black y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x chubby reader #gojo smut #toji smut #geto smut #toji fushiguro #gojo x you

[milkloafy]

THE WAY TO THE HEART — DAN HENG

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: after saving penacony, you want to take a break and sit out of the next mission. you decide you should send dan heng off with a little homemade lunch before his travels. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: fluff, gn!reader, established relationship ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 0.8k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: i don’t even like cooking but i want to cook for dan heng idk whats gotten into me >.> also!! idk what is happening after penacony i haven’t even finished penacony HSDJHGSK i’m making this up!! pls enjoy!!

Since you and Dan Heng started dating, there weren’t many mission you didn’t take part in together. However, after the events of Penacony, you decided you wanted to recuperate both your mental and physical health in the comfort of the Astral Express.

Dan Heng, who wanted to see more of the Xianzhou fleets decided he would go on the next mission. While you knew you would miss him, you were excited for him to have some more fun experiences with the crew. 

You decided you would send him off with a grand gesture. And what better way to someone’s heath than food? 

You weren’t the best chef in the world, but you could hold your own in the kitchen. At least, compared to Himeko and her coffee.You had planned to whip up a lunch box full of fried rice—with rock crab included to spice up the flavor—comfort food, and some izumo miso. Simple, but effective. Besides, what truly mattered is how cutely it was presented! With neatly shaped fried rice and sauce making little hearts and smiley faces on the food, Dan Heng was bound to love it.

Before Dan Heng was to depart for the next Xianzhou fleet, you gave him a big hug and handed him a nice lunch box.

“Everything is in an insulated container but it only holds the heat for twenty-four hours,” you stated as he graciously accepted the meal. “Try to eat it while it’s still warm!”

He nodded, ruffling the top of your head affectionately. “Will do. Make sure you get a lot of rest while you’re here. Message me if you get scared at night.”

You laughed despite how grateful you were for his offer. Being apart for long periods of time may be hard but at least you knew Dan Heng would always be there for you. 

“I’ll try to be brave without you,” you teased. “Now go, you should catch up with March 7th and Caelus. And remember—try to stay safe.”

“I’ll return to you in one piece,” he assured with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“You better!”

“I promise.”

— ❀ —

By the time Dan Heng was able to sit down and at, it was night time and he was in his hotel room after a long day out. Worriedly, he pulled the lunch you packed him out of his bag. 

Dan Heng recalled you telling him it would only be kept warm for twenty-four hours, and it was well over thirty now. Still, he was certain it would taste just as good since it was made with love and effort from you. Besides, microwaves existed on the Xianzhou if worst came to worst.

He removed all the lids from the containers and a whiff of some of his favorite foods filled his senses. Dan Heng’s stomach finally growled after the tiring day he had. 

Before he dug in, he noticed a piece of paper taped to a lid. Dan Heng chuckled to himself, knowing it was none other than a secret note from you. If he were only a tad less attentive, he wouldn’t have even noticed it was there.

Dan Heng opened it up.

You found me! c: 

A smile was immediately placed on Dan Hengs face. Oh, how he missed you already. It was too late at night to call you now—he didn’t want to disturb your rest, but he would certainly message you after he finished reading your note.

By the time you’re reading this, the food is probably cold, isn’t it?

He chuckled sheepishly. You knew him too well at times.

It’s okay though. I give you permission to microwave it just this once <3

I hope the first day of your mission went well. Not too many fights today, I hope? No Vidyadhara form required yet? Don’t overexert yourself, okay?

Now…enjoy your cold food and remember to take care of yourself! I love you and you’re super cool B) 

With Love,

Y/N

P.S. Don’t forget to message me~ ily!

Dan Heng took a sip of your miso soup with a smile and pulled out his phone to send you a message right away. He wished you were able to come wit him, but he understood perfectly the need for a mental health break.

#dan heng x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #hsr fluff #dan heng fluff #dan heng imagines #hsr imagines #dan heng

[clockwayswrites]

*whistles innocently* Feather won, eh?

cw: mentions of blood, gun violence

-

The whoop that Cassin lets out as he free falls for a moment is a bright note in the middle of Gotham’s dark streets. He gets why Dad didn’t let him out to actual fight crime until he was sixteen, but he really wishes he could have flown before then. There’s something about swinging between the buildings of Gotham that’s like nothing else. Cassin’s grapple finds purchase on the next building and there’s that gratifying pull at his muscles as his momentum is wrenched in another direction and he flings himself back up into the air.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be tired of flying.

There’s barely a sound as he lands, a few swings later, on a roof. Cassin rolls through the movement and up onto the balls of his feet, testing the flex in the soles of the new boots. He’s relishing having enough of a growth spurt to need a new uniform. It’s not that he’ll ever be large, not like Bruce, but it would be nice not to be so tiny.

The crack of a gunshot rips through the air. Cassin is off, bounding across the roofs even as he taps his comm once to activate it.

“Gunshot, B. Single round, small caliber, no shouting,” Cassin rattles off.

“Location,” Batman rasps back.

“North Narrows, I’m almost there, and yes, I’m sticking to the roofs,” Cassin says. It was always best to reassure his dad, even when it’s less Dad and more Batman. “Suspect in sight, running north on Harris— shit, gunshot victim on the sidewalk.”

“See to the victim, I’ll intercept.”

“Gotcha,” Cassin agrees. He hops the last gap between buildings, catches his grapple on the lip of the roof, and slings himself down to street level.

Shit, that’s a lot of blood already. Cassin doesn’t have much hope as he pushes back the hood the person is wearing. The skin is deathly pale, pitch black hair frames the head like a dark halo. The eyes are closed.

They would be blue if they were open.

No they wouldn’t, he can’t know that. He doesn’t know that.

It’s just that…

It’s just that the face looks a lot like the one that Cassin sees every day on the walls of the manor. The face looks a lot like the big brother that Jason never got to know.

The comm sparks to life again. “Cassin, suspect heading back your way. Status?”

“They’re, um,” Cassin shakes his head and spins on his heels, looking for the suspect. Shit, he didn’t even take the pulse yet. There’s the suspect, swooping shadow of black close behind them. Cassin glances back over his shoulder and freezes.

“Cassin? Report!”

“They’re… they’re gone?”

-

The hinges scream as the door to the shoddy apartment opens. He’ll have to put that on his list of things to fix. Or maybe not, it was a good warning system. Not that Danny needs any warning right then, he knows who is coming in by the chill in his breath as it brushes across his lips.

He lets himself finish his thought before he sets down his pen and turns around with a smile. A smile that quickly turns into a sigh as he sees the mess. “Really? Another one? You’re going to have to start dressing all in black if you keep getting your clothing covered in blood like this.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Danny insists as he gets up and crosses the short distance between them. He pokes a finger through the bloody hole in the hoddie. “At least tell me there’s no bullet in you.”

“Through and through,” they chirped.

Not wanting to be fooled again, Danny looks up into the vivid golden eyes. They stare at each other for a long moment before Danny gives in with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you, my Robin?”

They tilted their head, the motion short and as bird like as their moniker. “Kiss me?”

Danny barks out a laugh and leans up to press a quick kiss to Robin’s lips. “Fair enough. Now go clean up and put your hoddie in water to soak. And remember this time, cold water, please?”

“Yes Danny,” Robin says and steals another kiss before they bounce off to do as told.

Danny rolls his eyes fondly and gets back to work.

#dp x dc #danny/dick #death defying ship #talon dick grayson

[justleaveatnine]

pink in the night - matty healy. part five.

you join the 1975 on tour as an actress starring in the narrative portion of at their very best alongside the lead singer, matty healy. he’s got big ideas and wants to redefine what a concert is, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. on stage together each night, it starts to feel less and less like acting. but is it the same for him?

masterlist

cw: drug use, smoking, panic attacks, a little more blood stuff (sorry)

wc: 5.4k

—

San Diego

“Please don’t kill me.” 

“Huh?” You whip your head around to find Matty standing in front of you, somewhat anxiously for a reason you can't yet determine. You're lounging on the settee on the stage, watching the crew set up as you wait for your call time to begin prep. Matty comes to sit down beside you, and you sit back up from your supine position. 

"Here," he says, practically shoving a paper in your hand. It's been ripped out of a notebook, jagged edges against your fingertips. You begin to read over the words scribbled on the page in dark black ink.

I glow pink in the night in my room I've been blossoming alone over you And I hear my heart breaking tonight I hear my heart breaking tonight Do you hear it too? It's like a summer shower With every drop of rain singing "I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you I love you, I love you, I love you" I could stare at your back all day I could stare at your back all day And I know I've kissed you before, but I didn't do it right Can I try again, try again, try again Try again, and again, and again And again, and again, and again

You touch your finger to the words, softly brushing against the page. You turn your head to him sat beside you.

"Is this my poem?" you ask, bewildered.

Now he looks even more nervous. This is odd. He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. You aren't sure what to say, but he fills the silence before you have the chance to.

"Erm, when I read it, I couldn't stop thinking about how it basically perfectly connected to the fragments of this song I had started writing. That's why I took a picture of it," he gestures towards it with his hand, "so I could see if it fit." 

He takes another deep breath, somewhat strained. "If I overstepped, or if you hate it-"

The words come out a hundred miles a minute. "Matty, this is amazing. I can't believe you did this. I-I-do you have any of it written to music yet? Or just this? Not just this, god, I mean-

He thankfully cuts of your overwhelmed rambling. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, opening up his voice memos. "Here, uh, I recorded the first bit with a guitar earlier." 

He presses play. The sound of him singing over a simple guitar part rings through the empty stage. It's stunning. His voice singing your words conjures a feeling within you that is nearly indescribable, an electrifying somatic response. He's given the song an eerie but almost comforting feeling. One that almost compliments the show, you think to yourself. His fingers pluck the simple but beautiful backing on the guitar, and as he repeats the words of the chorus that you dream of him saying to you, you look into his eyes. His voice drones on, repeating the phrase over and over until it feels as if he invented the words himself. The whole thing, really. Not just those fatal three words that ring in your ears. It feels like what you wrote was simply words on a page, but the feelings running through your body and mind are all because of him. He took your haphazard notes on a score and turned them into a symphony. 

You hold his gaze until the voice memo finishes with his voice clearing, the noise of him fumbling with the phone filtering through the speaker. 

You let out a small laugh in shock. "That's so beautiful, Matty. I don't even know what to say, I'm a little overwhelmed."

"In a good way?" he asks, nerves seemingly returning.

You touch your hand to his, warmth tangling with electricity. "The best way. I never thought my poems would be anything more than just words on my pages, I didn't even plan on ever showing people."

"Well, that would be a damn shame, love. That poem is amazing, this was just as much you as it was me, don't get it twisted." His smile brings you so much comfort it almost makes you nauseous. You'd write a million books, hundreds of thousands of pages until your fingers bleed if it meant you had that smile directed to you forever.

You look back down at the phone. "I've never written a song before, this is kind of exciting," you let out a soft laugh. 

"And it sure has hell won't be the last. You're letting me see more of that work of yours, darling. I'd love to try and write with you and not just parallel to you next time," he says assuredly. 

How do you tell him that he's the subject of all of your prose, all the of lines filing up the pages of your notebook tucked safely under your pillow?

Inglewood

"Do you ever worry about more casual fans' reactions to the show?" You're sat in the booth of the bus as it sits through the inevitable evil that is Los Angeles traffic. You've got your knees pulled up to your chest as you read a novel, and he's flipping through a magazine across from you.

He exhales out his nose, and flips a page of the magazine "Nah, I usually am just thinking about the people who care the most about the band in everything we do. I think as an artist, you kind of have to, you know? Otherwise it feels like they are taking your devotion for granted. What brings this on?"

"Nothing, I just, uh, I saw a video on TikTok of someone asking if you were really as drunk as you appear up there and it just got me thinking."

He takes a moment to think. "It's hard, I won't lie. Seeing the opinions of people who don't know a thing about me, or the band, or what I'm trying to say, and go on and say that kind of stuff. But I've been exposed to it for years, and the concept of being famous far longer."

"Is there any part of you that worries about alienating people? I don't think you will, I mean, I'm just curious as to what you think."

He runs a hand through his hair before speaking. "Yeah, I do sometimes. But that is usually far removed from when I actually am performing, where I usually am so in my own head I don't give a fuck about what some random person who only knows one song thinks. And I don't mean that as an insult to them, not at all. I just mean in regards to performing, I'm only ever thinking of the message I want to say, and what the people who care most about us will think."

"I don't think there's many other artists who care about and think so highly of their fans as you do," you smile at him. He meets it before turning back to the magazine, and you return to the book leant up against your legs.

San Francisco

Your bare feet pad along the tour bus floor as you slip out of bed. The digital clock fixed to the wall near the front reads 3:24, and you rub your eye with your fist as you approach the kitchenette. 

You open the fridge, the fluorescent light illuminating the empty living area. You take out what you need to make a sandwich, a late snack that will hopefully cure the hunger preventing you from sleeping.

As you make the sandwich, you find yourself humming In My Life, the song somewhat of an earworm to you in the past few days. You mumble the melody peacefully, enjoying the quiet moment in this newfound life of yours that never seems to rest. A noise from the sleeping area startles you, and you turn your head to see a squinting Matty walking towards you.

"Shit, I'm sorry if I woke you," you tell him sheepishly, setting the knife down with a small clatter.

"Nah, don't worry. I haven't been able to sleep all night." He yawns and goes to lie on the couch, phone illuminating his face. You turn your back to him to continue making the sandwich, resuming humming quietly to yourself. You return the ingredients to the fridge, almost forgetting he is sat behind you as you work your way through the song.

Suddenly, Matty begins to impersonate the sped-up piano in a high-pitched voice. The shock of it all and the silly voice he is putting on causes you to laugh, pausing slicing the sandwich. You turn your head to look at him behind you, and he's chuckling to himself while scrolling. You shake your head with far too fond exasperation and return to assembling the sandwich.

Portland

It's about to be Robbers, so that means you're knelt in front of Matty as he stands on the side table, leant down towards you.

His eyes catch something on your forehead and he drags his thumb across it, slightly scraping. There’s blood on his finger now, some your makeup artist must have missed in the hasty clean up you endure each night after Inside Your Mind. 

He raises his thumb and takes it in his mouth, a cocky grin on his face as he sucks it clean. You’re stomach churns as you watch him, entranced. Does he know exactly how much power he has over you? The reaction each of these intrepid moves causes within you?

Your choreography is about to start, usually punctuated with Matty taking a drag from the cigarette before placing it in your mouth to stub out afterwards. He takes a drag slowly and begins to leans in towards you, startling you slightly out of the rhythm you usually fall into. The brazen grin on his face tells you what he wants. You were surprised it took him this long after finding out you actually smoke, really. You meet him half-way, and inhale as he breathes out the smoke into your mouth, covetous and desperate. 

The audience is cheering, as they always seem to be whenever the two of you are doing something that you know will make the rounds on Twitter later. He hands you the cigarette, presumably to stub out as you do. Instead, you breathe in, reach your hand up to grab his hair, and shotgun him right back. His eyes are sparkling as the smoke tangles between the two of you, mouths grinning and lips touching. 

You stub the cigarette out on the table leg, and the choreography begins.

Seattle

You’ve been writing more poems than ever, your book overflowing with ideas and lyrics. No matter what you try to write about, it always ends up being about him.

It’s even worse when he takes them and completes them. He takes your words about him and gives them far more grace, more talent than you ever could, and turns them into things of beauty. Will he ever realize all that beauty is just silhouettes of him?

He's sat across from you in the green room, plucking a melody on the guitar. You're rifling through your journal, trying to find another half-finished poem that isn't completely glaringly obvious about its subject matter.

"Here, uh, how's this one?" He looks up at you, and takes the book out of your hands.

Last night I broke from old  and told a friend the truth that I've got one foot out I've called it bad and I colored it blue

But it's a beautiful life to be in your hands one step out of the light under your command

I'm in my modern world  tribute living man  I've got my one foot out  when I do my modern dance I am in your hands I am in your hands I am in your hands

He smiles down at the page, laughing softly to himself. 

"What?" you ask, slightly alarmed.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head. "This is fuckin' amazing. And I've already got a few ideas and stuff that might work saved, come here."

He pulls out his phone and opens voice memos, playing one called lead vocal idea 3. 

"Gonna have to change this for the syllables and phrases, obviously. But how does something like this sound for the first bit?"

It's a simple, repetitive melody. When you imagine it lined up to each of the lines, it's perfect. You tell him so, and his face lights up. "Let's try and figure it out then, yeah?"

Fort Lauderdale 

You never talk about what you do during the shows. 

No one in the band had questioned why Matty always buys your drinks, but you’ve caught Polly giving you an odd look once or twice. You don't pay it too much mind.

Matty gets bolder, and you get just as bold in return.

He moans into your mouth when he kisses you. You run your hands up his sides when he leaves his shirt untucked, which he has done every single show since you first did it. He lets your head loll limply before pulling your hair harder, puppeteering you how he wants to. Like you're a doll for him to play with. 

You scatter kisses along his jawline after All I Need to Hear. His stubble itches against your skin. When you're feeling particularly bold, you nip gently at his skin, eagerly welcoming his groans. When he kisses your hand, he places kisses on each of the knuckles before placing it on his cheek for you to hold. You touch your finger to his nose as he does this, and it makes him smile, brown eyes crinkling. He drags his thumb across your lips when you're knelt in front of him, and a cheshire cat smile dawns his face when you swipe your tongue across it. 

After the show, you'll talk about the crowd, about something funny that George said in the in-ears that made you almost break. But you never talk about the rest. It goes unsaid, unacknowledged. The blatantly obvious escalating passion that you pray is reciprocated due to  a feeling similar to yours.

You fear the bubble you've built for yourselves will break if you prod it. So you don't say a word, and you take what he gives you. 

Denver   "Do you wanna know the original reason I came up with the show?" 

You're lying on Matty's hotel room bed with your feet to the pillows, head dangling off the edge. He's lying on the floor beneath you, out of your sight. You see his hand reach up to pass you the joint, and you accept it gratefully, movements languid. 

"Hmm?" you ask, not hearing him completely.

"The uh, the original reason. Of the show, why I made the show."

"What, you wanted to make a meta reinvention of the stage show, filled with meta ideas and subvert the audiences ideas of meta-" you say in a voice, mocking his northern accent.

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Matty loves saying meta, real creative." He hiccups before continuing. 

"It was because, uh, George and I, uh..." he starts laughing, unable to finish the sentence.

You turn to face him, stealing the spliff out of his hands to take another hit. "You and George..." you gesture for him to finish with it in your hands.

He's laughing through the sentence, rubbing his forehead. "Venues only let you smoke if its part of a theatrical performance."

"Huh?" Your hazy mind doesn't put it together.

"They wouldn't let us smoke on stage unless it was a part of a theatrical performance. So voila, theatrical performance." He grins, proud, as he points at the two of you.

"You knob! You wrote this entire show solely because you couldn't go two hours without a smoke?" You reach with your free hand, hitting him as your roll over to face him on the floor.

"Well not solely that, Jesus! That was just what inspired me to write a show. And I think that worked out pretty well, did it not?" He's cheeky, smiling proud as he takes another hit.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh as you move your head up and nestle into the bed, ready to fall asleep as your intoxicated mind clouds your best judgement.

"I do try."

The smoke alarm starts buzzing. "Oh, shit!"

You can't help but laugh at him as he tries to fan smoke away from the small detector, beeping incessantly. "Fuck!" he yells, but you just laugh louder into the bed.

Independence

"So you'll be on the settee now, not the lounger. And Robbers is in At Their Very Best, not Being Funny. And when All I Need to Hear finishes, you'll freeze there instead."

"Every iteration of this show is just a test of my ability to stay still while you prance around the stage, then?"

"Prance?!"

You should have known based on everything about Matty that he wouldn't be satisfied keeping the show the same for long. He briefed you earlier in the day about the changes he wanted to try, and you did a quick run through with the crew to ensure they were prepared. Matty told you he was writing a follow-up show to the current one, and wanted to try incorporating some of the ideas into the current set-up.

You're sat comfortably on the settee, knees pulled up and feet tucked up to the side. You're still with a demure smile cast on your face, finishing your act in this position rather than looking up at him knelt in front of the table. There is a new classical piece playing over the sound system, one you don't recognize.

He goes through the panicked motions he usually does, attempting to wake you by shaking your shoulders and lightly hitting your cheek repeatedly. It's harder to stay still when directly focusing the audience as you are now, their motions and screams adding an extra challenge to keeping your gaze fixed at an invisible point.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Matty near the mic stand lighting a cigarette. He begins to anxiously stumble across the stage, frequently turning to you. He's concerningly good at acting drunk, and you're reminded of the post wondering if he truly is that drunk. He takes a sip out of a bottle that is placed on the piano, and walks to sit on the couch beside you. 

He takes a few drags, and begins to cry with his head in his hands. You can't help but think of the fact that there are definitely several confused parents in the audience as a result of this scene: classical music overturing Matty as he sobs into his hand and chainsmokes while a woman they have never seen before sits frozen smiling beside him. At least after the first show, the parents might have been briefed on the oddities of this performance the two of you put on. Matty changing elements removes all that. The thought of these traumatized and perplexed parents so nearly makes you laugh that you have to take a deep breath to prevent it from escaping, forcing the smile down your throat.

Matty keeps turning his head to look at you, crying even further. He then proceeds to sit on the ground in front of you and embrace your legs, weeping into the hug. You can feel his warm breath against your shins, shaking with put-on sobs. He stays this way for a moment before calming his cries and looking up at you, taking a drag of the cigarette in the process. He then sits back up on the settee beside you, watching you all the while. He reaches out and plays with your hair, twirling locks and running his fingers through it. It's more comforting than the pulls earlier in the show, the ones that send warmth through your body and shivers down your spine. His hand travels to your neck and begins to prod it rather aggressively with his fingers, making weird movements as they travel up to your chin.

He rubs his face one final time, and abandons you on the couch to sit in front of the television stack. Only a few more minutes of being still. You're able to blink, but your eyes hurt from the focus. In the corner of your eye, you see Matty begin to do twenty press-ups, all-the-while watching the news footage interspersed with videos of the two of you from previous shows. He finally crawls into the television, and the lights go out. You exit quickly as regularly, steps echoing in the momentary silence.

Chicago

"I feel like Ferris Bueller."

You turn your head to see Matty beside you. He's staring at the painting, the museum map folded in his hands.

"It's Cameron in front of this one, actually," you remark, cheeky.

"Oh, piss off." You chuckle.

You're stood in front of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte, as you have been for nearly ten minutes. You've analyzed every speck of the painting, but you can't bring yourself to leave it just yet.

"You know, Nighthawks is just around the corner," his head turns in the direction as he speaks, "if you want to go see it."

"I'm alright here, but thank you," you smile warmly at him before continuing. "I saw Sunday in the Park with George on the West End as kid, and I've been wanting to this ever since. It feels so much larger in person, even having seen it in Ferris Bueller and all."

"Art always manages to surprise you."

"That's very wise."

"Indeed." You can hear the smile in his voice.

"I usually squeeze a few group museums trips on each tour, actually," he continues. "Nice peaceful day off with everyone."

"This one been good so far?" you ask him.

"Oh, the best." You hold his gaze for a moment before returning to the painting, the butterflies he always conjures in your stomach unable to bear it any longer. You stand in silence with him, staring at the painting. You sneak glances at him when he's not looking as if he’s another one of the works of art strung along the galleries walls.

Milwaukee

You walk towards the green room, ready to tell Matty and George they are needed on stage before the sounds of an argument stops you in your tracks.

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt, mate!"

"No one will be, I swear. I know what I'm doing, I promise."

"Well, good, then. You need to be careful about not hurting her-"

"George. It'll be alright. Okay? I'll figure it out."

There's a slight lull, and you take the time to knock and push the door open. Their heads turn to you, Matty's eyes wide before washing over with a still expression

"Hey, uh, sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything, we're needed on stage."

"Not interrupting anything, love. C'mon." He walks assuredly past you into the hallway and towards the stage. George flashes you a soft smile, but you can see there's something behind it.

You look at them nervously as they walk ahead of you, mind racing as you try to put an explanation to the conversation you walked into that clearly they did not want you to hear. You forget about it by the time the show is over, the moment washing away with the day.

Toronto

"I won't lie, I'm not a huge fan of this." 

You're standing on the glass floor of the CN Tower. You haven't been up here since you visited your uni friend over the holidays a few years back, and when you realize the whole band had never visited you promptly commandeered the day off planning. 

You remove your eyes from gazing at the aquarium below to see Matty, standing at the edge of the glass. His toes barely touch it, refusing to step onto the clear portion of ground you are traversing.

"Somebody's scared," you childishly tease him, overjoyed at this exposed weakness. 

"I'm not scared, I just don't particularly enjoy being reminded that if there are any structural disintegrities in this massive pole that this is my route out."

"Nah, he's bloody terrified of heights," Ross tosses from nearby, staring out at Lake Ontario.

"It seems I have lost all of my kind, loving, friends, whatever has happened to them?" Matty asks theatrically, turning around as if to search. He's caught up enough by what he's saying that he doesn't see George approach from the side, who quickly grabs him and pulls him onto the glass floor.

"You fuckwit! What is your problem!" Matty yells to George as he hastily runs back to the covered floor. You and George are practically dying of laughter, and it's only egged on by Matty's unimpressed expression.

Minneapolis

The text notification from Matty drops down from the top of your screen, pulling you away from mindlessly scrolling on Instagram. You roll over to your side in your bunk and open the message.

Last night I finally slept Next to somebody true She's worthy of your faith I felt you in her hands I saw you when she moved

God, it's a beautiful life To live for somebody gone One step out of the fight One dream into the storm

Your eyes scan over the words, and you type out a quick ? in response. He messages back instantaneously, rapid-fire.

A second verse

For I am in your hands. 

And then I think it could lead back into the chorus

What do you think

You pull the curtain back from your bunk to find his curtain already open, staring at you. You go back to typing, looking up at him when you finish.

It's perfect

I love how you modified some of the lines slightly in the second part

You look back up and he's got a grin on his face, clearly pleased with your approval. You look back down to type some more, thumbs flying across the screen.

I was also thinking maybe after each line in the chrous it's followed by a bv of I am in your hands

Like 

But I'm in my modern world (I am in your hands)

And so on

You look back up at him and he's nodding his head to an inaudible tune, clearly singing out your suggestions in his head. He returns to the screen to write you another message.

I love that

You're a proper songwriter now love

You look back up at him with a small smile, lips pursed. You hope the light of your phone doesn't illuminate the blush on your cheeks, always appearing so easily when it comes to him.

Newport

The rush of cold air stings your skin. You need to get away from the dance floor, the far-too-bright flashes of the club lights, the music pounding so loud it hurts to hear. Everything is too much. 

You're losing control of your breathing, gasping for air. The back door finally slams closed, the sound scaring you. You lean against the brick wall and it itches against your skin.

Your legs can't hold you up anymore, and you slid down to the asphalt, burning your exposed shoulders along the way. Tears spring from your eyes, and you loose further control of your breathing.

The alcohol is making you feel completely out of control of the situation, floating above your body as the streetlights smear together into a blur. You're losing grip on what's happening, and it only furthers the panic attack you've finally recognized is happening..

You throw your head against your knees that are tucked up to your face, crying and trying to breathe. You were worried this would happen eventually at one of these nights out. You're no stranger to having to tuck yourself into a corner while you name five things you can see, four things you can touch. The alcohol always makes them worse.

You only feel more overwhelmed and scared as your intoxicated mind continues to spin, unable to function the way you need it to in order to calm down. Your breaths are ragged, heaving sobs echoing through the back area outside of the club that you've found yourself in.

The pounding slam of the door swinging open hardly registers in your mind, and you only realize someone else is out there with you when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, hey, come here, look at me." It's Matty.

You slowly look up, raising your head a herculean feat. He's crouched in front of you, eyes alight with concern. His mouth is parted, and both his hands are now gripped on your shoulders. Your breaths begin to increase rapidly, so far out of your control.

"Matty, I-I-I can't, I-" you're gasping for air, unable to get any sentence out. You're so overwhelmed you can't help but cry more, heaving and shaking. Worry stains across his face.

"Shh, shh, don't worry about talking, just sit with me. Here." he maneuvers to be sat beside you, and pulls your head against his shoulder. He takes your hand from the pavement and weaves his hand into it. You immediately begin to squeeze his hand, and he hums in encouragement. 

You don't know how long you sit there, squeezing his hand and matching his breaths until yours calm, your grip on the world returns. The booming of the club music is audible against your back, but all you can hear is Matty's breaths, deep and steady.

Pittsburgh

You're knelt on the ground, sat back and knees digging against the carpet. He's above you, painstakingly recreating the Robbers video as you do each night. Matty doesn't stray from the script in this song, so you're careful to follow his lead.

He sticks his hands out sideways in the air, and leans down as scripted to kiss you. But this time, he weaves his hand into your hair just as he does earlier in the show. His deviation spurs you on, and you reach up to place one hand against his cheek.

He smashes his lips against yours, violent and wanting. The passion is practically tangible, dancing through your body, sparkling from your fingertips until the carpet lights aflame. It's never like this in this song. It's never like this with anyone else.

His hand is still in your hair, a feeling nowhere near foreign this far into the tour. When he begins to tug, you're not exactly unused to the sensation. But he's never done it now. Not in the song he's so stringent with, timing each action to the video by the syllable. The surprise mixing with the pleasure racing through you concentrates itself into a moan, gasping into his mouth uncontrollably.

You can't help yourself. You've never been more glad to not be mic'd up, the sound a secret between only you and him. You've never done that, lost control to the extent you are now. He pulls back from the kiss, slightly late for his cue. His mouth is slightly open, eyes predatorily down on you. His lips curl into an open-mouthed smile, tongue pressed against his teeth. 

He sings the rest of the verse with the hand still in your hair, unscripted and unfathomable. It occasionally pulls, moving your head slightly. He's never been this brazen. Maybe the audience, unfamiliar with the show, is wondering why the choreography looks the same as one of the last songs. You can't begin to care about their possible confusion. All you want is him, breaking the last piece of the show that remained untouched by the desire coursing through the two of you. You have to assume it's in him as well as yourself. Any other explanation would break you. So you connect the dots, create the picture in your mind, matching the enormity of his desire to yours. You pray you aren't imagining any of it, creating a full painting out of just a few pigments of colour. All you can do is paint and paint, a blood-stained, half-finished image of passion. 

—

a/n: new song is i am in your hands by bleachers! let me know what yall thinkkkkk

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 #matty healy writing #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy fic #pitn

[middlingmay]

Any headcanons about John's hands? 🔥

Anon! You have no idea how much I needed something like this to cheer me up. Today has been a clusterfuck of a day at work. What a lovely thing to log off to.

I have so many thoughts about John's hands. As they say in my country, here we fucking go.

Also, if any under 18s here, gets a tiny bit spicy towards the end.

John's hands are constantly on the move. It stems from his need to be doing, to be useful in some way. It's something he inherited from his father, who he watched flap and wave his hands around when he spoke, handle people pretty freely, and find something to occupy his hands the rare occassions John saw him sit still.

They're calloused and have been for ages. John's dad got him into taking things apart, but unlike his dad, John liked the fixing part best and he loved using his hands to build something better, or at least to stop it from being thrown on the scrap heap.

The only time John's hands are still are when they're on somebody. They're as steady as you please when they're on someone's body, or guiding a plane.

They're big, obviously. They're freckled, too, and his fingers are thick and long. He used to wear rings before the army and often strokes the line of slightly softer skin where they used to be, absent minded.

Now for the good stuff:

Gale watches his hands a lot. The way they clench when he lifts something heavy; the way they curve around someone's arms and have nearly swallowed more than one skinny new recruit's bicep whole. He watches the way John's fingers trace the lip of his whisky glass, tracking moisture back and forth. He particularly likes when John uses them to bark out his orders, pointing or pushing them in some direction or other.

He does not like it when he sees both those hands clutch a woman's waist and his fingers meet behind her back. But Gale's always been told he has a trim waist - a swimmer's build - and oh boy, does it get him thinking.

The solidity of John is something Gale likes, the presence of him, tangible and reliable. John's hands give that to him, pressing down on his legs when they wanna shake, clutching his shoulder when he gets that urge to walk away from it all, squeezing his neck and ruffling his hair and squeezing his wrist and patting his belly, pressing against his back. Gale catalogues it all.

And when they finally get their shit together, Gale is obsessed with watching John's hands work him. He likes seeing John's hands leave fingerprints on his thighs. He loves watching himself slip in and out of the tunnel of John's hands. He loves running his tongue over those hands and licking them clean afterwards, only for them to grip Gale's jaw nearly painfully as John kisses him.

But his favourite thing is when one time, when John's underneath him and can't decide where to put his hands, Gale grabs them almost frantic, and puts them at his waist. John thankfully gets the hint and cinches his hands around Gale's waist tight. His hands don't quite touch, but they both discover it is an excellent way to manhandle Gale to where John needs him, or to do the heavy lifting for Gale when he's finished first or too tired but just won't quit.

And over the years Gale watches those hands fix things and learn to cook and clean, and work as hard as Gale's do to provide a life for them. He watched them pet dogs and cats, and play games with local kids, and one day, laws be damned, he even slips a ring on one finger, too

#asks #ask me anything #clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #mota

[digitaldiarystuff]

Secret

soo i know this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written but it’s like a introduction of (possibly🤞🏻) a series so please let me know if you’d be interested in this 🥹

any and all comments would be greatly appreciated 💖

————

pairing: Pablo Gavi x Y/N

————

“Baby I’m home.” you announced to your boyfriend after coming straight from uni. Today was a hard day especially with the finals taking place but you were finally having a little off time and couldn’t be happier. The stress and anxiety was put on hold for a whole week and also, you were finally introducing your boyfriend to your whole friend group. Of course he’s met your closest girls, Val and Maria but this was the first time he’d be in a big group setting with you since everyone in the group had been super busy the last couple of months. You and your boyfriend had been officially together for two months but it was actually going so well that you spent most days and nights together and the relationship only grew stronger each day.

“I’m in the shower, baby.” he shouted and you headed over to his bedroom to get ready already having stuff at his place. You put on a nice going out top with straight fit jeans as your boyfriend joined you in getting ready.

“How was the exam, love?”

“It was actually okay, surprisingly.” you laughed and applied more blush.

“I told you you had nothing to worry about. I’m the one who should stress about today, I’m meeting all your friends at once after all.” he joked.

“They’ll love you.” you said as you hugged him from behind.

“Is there anyone I should be concerned about?”

“What do you mean?” you stiffened.

“Well every friend group has that overprotective one.”

“Oh yeah definitely.” you said while nervously laughing.

“Is there someone like that?”

“No, I don’t think so.” you avoided his gaze and finished getting ready leaving for your uber.

Once you arrived to the bar you met up with pretty much all your closest friends and their significant others, you were childhood friends for the most part but had some additions along the way over the years. It was pretty much like friends the series, where you met up as much as possible and knew everything about each other. As you scanned the table, you realized someone missing.

“Isn’t Pablo coming?”

#football imagine #football #football oneshot #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #football blurb #football one shot #football angst #fc barcelona #football fluff #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi blurb #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi one shot #pablo gavi

[ghouljams]

If the thought strikes you, id love to see more 1870’s johnny and moon. I love rereading their snippets at the moon’s bar💕💕💕💕💕 please and thank you

Oh of course, I love their 1870's counterparts more than I probably should. There's just something about the way Johnny talks to Moon in them that makes me squirm.

So here's Moon being needy but also so stubborn, and Johnny pining. (cw for very minor reader descriptions)

You set a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Johnny, and cut a slice of bread off a fresh loaf. The edge of the knife just touches your thumb and you twist your fingers to finish breaking the piece off, only to drop it onto Johnny's waiting plate. You don't get many people coming in for breakfast, but that doesn't mean you aren't prepared. You hardly pay attention to the smile he gives you, the tired thanks, just nod shortly and go to check on the folks renting rooms upstairs. You pass the door of a nice couple from up north and stall at the breathless moans and high pitched whines coming from inside. Your fingers twist in your skirt, your cheeks warm as you listen to the man softly coaxing his wife towards her peek. You manage to shake yourself of the embarrassment before you hear anything else, and go back down to the bar proper.

Johnny's dredging his bread through the broken yolks. He raises his brow at you when you take your place behind the bar again, but doesn't pry. It's a rare occasion but you suppose he must know how to keep quiet. Or maybe his mouth is full. Johnny drags his tongue over his calloused palm, catching the yellow yolk that drips off his fingers. It makes your stomach squeeze. You skin feels prickly, uncomfortably warm in the lingering summer heat. The sun's hardly up but you can feel its warmth in the air, still beaten into the dust from yesterday.

Sweat slips down your neck, and you sigh, rubbing at your shoulder. Johnny's eyes follow the movement, then drop to follow the path of your sweat. His eyes settle comfortably on your chest, your shirt unbuttoned low to allow you some space to breathe. It hasn't escaped your notice that gentlemen forget they're overpaying when they can oogle you, but no one tries anything with Johnny hanging around. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, pink muscle dragging far too slow to just be catching crumbs. One of his hands slips off the bar, disappearing for a brief moment before resuming it's aid in tucking into his breakfast.

You lean against the back bar, watching the saloon doors. You won't see anyone but the desperate few until lunch, and even that will be sparse until dinner. Time enough to let your mind wander, to think about the couple you'd overheard and squeeze your thighs together. Thinking about... thinking about that with Johnny anyone makes you feel like you're doing something wrong. Thoughts of Johnny's mouth fill your mind, his hands, his tongue. The soft open fabric of your shirt brushes your skin and you wonder if Johnny- no you know he stares, he's open about it. Never shies away when you've caught him. You wonder what he thinks about when he looks at you.

You wonder what he'd do if you let him touch you. If he'd cup your chest with his big calloused hands. If you'd be able to feel the rough swirls of his fingerprints, be able to pick out the start and end of every work worn inch. Would he squeeze hard, feeling the weight of your breasts in his hands? Would he be eager to get his mouth on them? You've heard from your friends that men often enjoy that. You think the drag of his tongue over the sensitive skin might feel nice, that he'd squeeze and suck at your chest with the same enthusiasm he always speaks to you with.

Yes, you think he would. You think he'd squish your breasts together, tug at your nipples until you begged him not to, and then you think he'd put his mouth on them. Licking and sucking at your skin with an appreciative groan. You heard him make a noise like that once while eating his dinner. It had made your cheeks burn something fierce. You can't imagine how you must look now, chewing on your thumb nail as you think about a man you hardly know doing such things to you. His marriage proposals must be getting to you, you're growing foolish, complacent. Your breath is too short, your nipples brushing your cotton chemise in a way you're all too aware of. Your skin feels hot from something that isn't the summer heat.

"You must be thinkin' real hard for how pretty you look," Johnny murmurs from the other side of the bar. Your eyes dart to him, the way he tips his head back to drop a thick slice of bacon down his throat, and sucks the grease off his fingers doesn't help the heat besieging you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You try to keep the snap in your voice, even when Johnny's fingers leave his mouth with a pop.

"Your nose is scrunchin', and ya got your lips all pouty," He sniffs, tearing at the remaining bits of his bread, "only do that when yer thinkin'." He tosses a piece of bread into his mouth, works the crust between his teeth. You stare at him. You don't have a good retort for that. "It's cute," Johnny finishes, "look real bonnie when ya dae it."

"Haven't I told you before it's too early for me to deal flirts?" You sigh, pushing off the back bar to take his empty plate.

"Aye, but this isnae flirtin', ahm statin' facts." He grins when you glare at him, purses his lips in a kissing motion when you narrow your eyes further. You turn to take his plate back to your kitchen sink. You don't know why you even entertained the idea that you'd let that man get his hands on you.

Soap watches you hustle back to the back, his eyes trailing over the sway of your hips, the tightness of your spine. He wonders if you know the threats he's been slinging at the men in town. Putting those pretty tits on display like they aren't worth their weight in gold. God, what he wouldn't give to bury his face between them. You're such a smart girl, he shouldn't have to tell you that every eye in the room trains on your chest when you lean across the bar. Soap's had the barrel of his gun under too many men's chins.

You make your way back, settle his bill on the bar and lean to tally it. The press of your tits, the soft squish of them against the wood, Christ. He drops his hand to adjust his hard cock a second time. You can't fault a man his attraction to a beautiful woman, especially one that wants nothing to do with him.

"When're you gonna let me make an honest woman of you?" Soap hums.

"I am an honest woman," You snap with enough venom to make him sit back. Your eyes look back at the slip of paper you'd been scribbling on. "Whatever goes on in your head is nothing to do with my honor," You mumble. Soap doesn't stop himself from reaching across the bar, his fingers dragging over the apple of your cheek so you'll look at him properly.

"Ahm sorry love," He tells you, cupping your cheek, thumb stroking over the skin. He wonders if your stiffness is from the rough drag of his callouses, it must not be pleasant against such soft skin. "Shouldnae tease ya. Ah won't do it any more, ya jus' give me the word." He promises. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your eyes darting away from his. Silent.

He leaves you the space to object, to tell him to stop. The silence lapses, and the longer you chew on your lip the tighter his heart squeezes. Oh his sweet girl...

He tugs at you, tips your head as he leans across the bar to drag his tongue over your lips. Giving you a taste since you'd been staring so much earlier. For such a testy little thing, all the hissing and spitting you do, your lips sure part easily for him.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x reader #oc: moon #cowboy au #1870s cowboy au #cowboy!Soap #f!reader

[mariclerc]

hey!... can you write a Charles × horner reader.. where the reader has a crush on since they met.... but Charles doesn't like her very much cuz he thinks she's a nepo baby... but the reader still tries to win his heart.... but one day after a bad race he lashed out on her.... breaking her heart.... later he realizes he also has fellings for her...then ask the reader for forgiveness and a second chance (pls make it a happy ending)... thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for this request! It took me a little while to try to develop it, I hope you like it!! 💗💗

Second chance spark | cl16

Summary: where Charles thinks you're a nepo baby just because of your last name. Warnings: a little angst, horner!reader, christian being an asshole and fluffy fluff.

a/n: let me know if you want a part two!!

The paddock of the Spanish Grand Prix is in big move, thousands of people moving from one place to another and there you find yourself, outside of the Red Bull hospitality talking to several of the girls on the team. This is what your life has become, practically, since being the daughter of Christian Horner you can walk around the hospitality and the paddock as many times as you like during the year.

Most people believe that you only walk around the paddock because it is a case of "nepotism", but in reality you are working very hard to be an engineer and earn a place in motorsport and that's why you find yourself doing internships at Red Bull. Also, your relationship with your father is not the best, so it is always a constant argument, but, even if you try not to give it so much importance, it always hurts.

“Oh god girls, look who's coming!” You say excitedly, Charles was walking through the paddock, to you he always looked like an angel, you blush slightly.

Mara, one of the Red Bull pr girls spoke. “Leclerc? Are you trying to charm the competition's sponsors I see.” she jokes and you blush a little.

You rolled your eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, he probably doesn't even know I'm here.” You say and a silence is present between the three of you. “I'm going to say hi.” You say determined.

Lila rise up an eyebrow. “Careful y/n. You don't want to spook the red prince.”

“Oh, please. Like he'd give me the time of the day.” you scoff.

You excuse yourself and stride confidently towards Charles. He notices your approach and his expression becomes guarded.

You've liked Charles since he debuted in the F4 European series, you always thought he was someone quite nice and talented... Besides of being cute, of course, but nothing ever happened between you, you were simply acquaintances. But now since you are always in the paddock you see him every single day and those feelings that you thought were already buried, were reborn with much more strength.

“Hello y/n. Didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles shyly.

“Well, I just came to say hi, a little greeting doesn't go amiss, don't you think?” you say shyly with a soft voice. “Are you nervous about the race?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah, uh, a little bit... But let's see how it goes.” he says trying to avoid your gaze.

“Well, you have a good shot, maybe you can achieve a podium finish.” You say and he looks at you surprised.

“You actually follow the races?” he asks.

You feign offense. “Of course I do, I'm trying to be an engineer! I may not be out there on the track like you and the boys, but I appreciate a good driver when I see one.” you smile brightly.

Charles looks at you for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Just make sure you're cheering for the right team on race day in the future.” he says teasingly.

“We'll see about that, Leclerc.” you two share a comfortable silence for a moment. You take a deep breath. “Well, I'll leave you alone, I have to go. But good luck in the race, yeah?” You say with a small smile.

“Sure, see you later! And thanks!” he smiles too.

You smiled back and turned to leave, a triumphant glint in your eyes. Charles watches you go, a genuine smile gracing his features. His heart is probably beginning to soften to let you into it.

***

“Is seriously? You talked to him and he didn't think you were a little innocent girl?” Christian said sitting in his chair in the office.

You were at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes, you had gone to see some engineers and work with them since you are doing your engineer internship at Red Bull and they have been very generous to you, teaching you everything they know, what you didn't realize was that your father was going to need you to have a talk. Such talks never end well, let's put it that way.

“Well, no... But I think he was being nice.” you say quietly. “I just wanted to wish him good luck, that's all... Just a little greeting... it's not a big deal.”

“You know? It's amazing that you're so stupid and dumb.” He says getting up from his chair. “And also by talking to the enemy, you don't really learn, don't you?” he asked sharply.

He never misses the opportunity to speak badly about you on any occasion, he simply doesn't care about your feelings, he is only interested in the job, winning and that's it. As if that were more important than your well-being as his daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Then let me finish my internship in another team.” you said and he looked at you. “I think it would be better for both you and me. Don't you think?” you said in a whisper.

“What? You really want to finish your silly and stupid internship at Ferrari, right? To be after a man who doesn't give you attention, is it serious?” he says sarcastically, that wasn't your idea but since he puts it on the table it doesn't sound too bad... “How ungrateful you are, to waste the fact that I gave you the opportunity to do the internship here.”

“And it was the only thing you did.” you murmured. “Because, as far as I remember, you haven't done anything else.”

“What did you say, huh? You little bitch.” He said, raising his voice towards you.

“What you fucking heard! Do you think it's not difficult to be under your shadow every day? How tiring it is to have everyone tell you that you are a child of nepotism just because all you did was get me the internship here! And you know that I had to sacrifice many things to get here.” you said in screams, taking everything out of you, all the years of abuse and so on. “And don't come pretending to be a saint because we both know you're not.”

You leave his office and everyone looks at you, but you don't care, you couldn't allow your father to call you names and spoke to you in a not very nice way. Your tears blur your vision as you leave the factory and you run to your car, you feel as if you no longer have a weight on your shoulders, but at the same time you are afraid of what may happen later between the two of you.

***

A couple of weeks later, the Austrian Grand Prix is a blur of disappointment, specially for Charles, since he finished a distant third, strategy blunders costing him a shot at the win against Max. The Red Bull Hospitality is abuzz with post-race celebration, a stark contrast to the muted atmosphere in the Ferrari hospitality across the way.

You stand awkwardly near the doorway, your presence a silent question in the room. Charles sits alone, staring into the bottom of an empty beer glass, his face an iron mask of frustration. A knot of worry tightens in your stomach, that's not the Charles you know, always so cheerful and lively despite everything. It's another version of him, darker and more mysterious.

“Charles?” you asked softly.

He looks up, surprise flickering across his features before hardening back into a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he said sharply.

“I...I just wanted to see if you were alright.” You say shyly.

His harsh tone stings, cutting through the fragile connection the two of you would built.

“Look y/n, I appreciate the concern, but I need to be alone.” he said sharply.

“But-” hurt creeps into your voice.

He interrupts with his voice rising. “No buts! Don't you get it? This is my job, my life! And today, I failed.”

Tears are pricking at your eyes. “I know it hurts, Charles, but you can't let it consume you.”

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. “Easy for you to say! You don't have the pressure, the expectations hanging over your head like a damn guillotine! You have everything on a silver platter whenever and however you want!” he say furiously.

His words are a punch to the gut. The simmering tension between you and your father explodes in your mind.

“You think I don't know the pressure? Do you have any idea what it's like living under my father's shadow? To be constantly judged, to have every decision questioned?” you say with a shaking voice.

Charles stares at you, his anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise.

“I may not be a driver, but I understand this world, Charles... I understand the pressure.” You say as tears form in your eyes.

Your vulnerability hangs heavy in the air. Shame washes over Charles, realizing the depth of his lashing out.

“Y/n, I...” he said with a soft voice.

He reaches out, but you flinches back, a wall of hurt suddenly separating the both of you.

You take a shaky breath. “I think I should go.” you sigh tiredly. “Nice talk.”

You turn towards the door, your heart heavy with a mixture of disappointment and a newfound understanding of the burdens that the both of you share. You run out there with tears running down your cheeks, nothing could have been worse after what happened with your father, but now you lost a person you cared about despite everything.

***

The Italian Grand Prix is in full swing after the summer break. Mechanics scurry around the gleaming red Ferrari, the air thick with pre-race tension. Charles, however, finds himself distracted. He steals constant glances towards the Red Bull garage across the pit lane, searching for a familiar face.

He spots you, standing by Christian, your interaction is tense, your father screams at you while you just only nod at his words while holding a few tears in your shy eyes. A pang of fury shoots through Charles, followed by a wave of regret. His outburst in Austria hangs heavy in the air, a barrier he needs to break. He, despite everything, is moderately informed about what happened between you and your father thanks to Max, and it hurts him not to have approached you much sooner.

The pit lane opens to finally start the grand prix, snapping Charles back to reality. He throws on his helmet, a steely resolve replacing his earlier anxiety.

***

Charles finishes a strong second, the podium it's a little bit bittersweet. He emerges from the car, the cheers of the tifosi a distant echo. All he can think about is you.

He finds you in the Red Bull hospitality, a hesitant knock on the door of your office, announcing his arrival. The room falls silent as he enters.

You stand by the window, your back towards him. Your posture is stiff, but Charles can sense the tremor in your shoulders.

“Y/n?” he say quietly.

You turn slowly, your eyes guarded. The hurt in your gaze is a mirror to his own regret.

“Charles...” you say softly.

There's an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Charles takes a deep breath.

“I can't apologize enough for Austria. I... I was a complete idiot.” he says.

“Words don't erase the hurt, Charles.” you say in a low voice.

He takes a step closer. “I know. But I wanted you to know... these past few weeks, all I could think about was your words. About the pressure, about being judged... You opened my eyes to a side of you I never knew existed.” He reaches out, hesitantly offering his hand. “And in doing so, I realized... how much I care about you.”

You stare at his hand, then back at his face. A flicker of vulnerability crosses your features before you speak.

“You can't just say things like that, Charles. Not after everything.”

“I know, but I have to try. Because the alternative... the alternative is losing you completely.” says sincerely. He sees a flicker of emotion in your eyes, a flicker that speaks of hope.

“This won't be easy, Charles. My father... Things haven't been so smooth lately between him and I.”

“I know. But maybe, just maybe, we can face it together... Like you said, we both understand this world, the pressure. Maybe we can be each other's support system, not just through wins and losses, but through everything else.” he say softly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You look at him, a question in your eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” you asked him.

Charles takes a chance, the weight of his feelings pulling him forward. He steps closer, your faces inches apart.

“I'm saying that... give me another chance, please. A chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.” he whispers. “Please, if you want, I beg you on my knees... I'll do anything, but please give me a chance.”

The air crackles with unspoken emotions. You lean in, closing the distance between the both of you. At first, the kiss is hesitant and at the same time soft and slow, then deepens, a promise unspoken but understood.

Pulling away, Charles searches your soft eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he smiled while blushing.

You smile softly, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes.

“Maybe... How about we can do something casual between us, not business related, just to get to know each other better?” you say shyly.

A grin spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him like a victory lap. “It's a deal darling.” you giggled.

He leans in for another kiss, the roar of the engines and the crowd outside a distant echo of the race that's just begun – the race for your hearts.

***

The air crackles with a different kind of tension now. You and Charles break apart from your long awaited kiss, foreheads resting against each other. Relief, hope, and a spark of defiance dance in your eyes.

“We should probably get going before someone sees us, don't you think?” you whisper shyly.

Charles nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He reaches for the door, ready to usher you out, but it swings open before he can touch it.

Standing in the doorway is Christian, his face a thundercloud. The celebratory atmosphere in the room evaporates, replaced with a chilling silence.

“Y/n! My office. Now.” he says with a strong and demanding voice.

You flinch, your body tensing and shaking at your father's tone, but Charles steps forward, his stance protective.

“Actually, she's not going anywhere Horner.” Charles says calmly.

Christian's gaze snaps to him, fury replacing the icy anger. “And who are you to tell me what to do in my own hospitality suite, Leclerc?” he scoffs.

“Someone who cares about her, a concept you seem to have forgotten.” Charles says with a hard and firm voice.

The room collectively gasps. You reaches out a hand to touch Charles' arm, a silent plea for caution. But Charles shakes you off gently, his green eyes boring into Christian's.

“You judge her, belittle her, just because of your own insecurities. You push her away with every harsh word and raised eyebrow.” Charles says defending you, maybe you and him weren't that close, but probably Max told him about what happened between you and Christian.

Christian lunges forward, his hand raised in a threatening gesture. But Charles doesn't back down, he catches Christian's wrist mid-air, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Don't. Even. Think. About. Touching. Her.” Charles says in a low, dangerous voice. “And if you do, you'll deal with me, is that clear?”

Christian throws Charles a withering look before turning and storming out of the room. The silence that follows is deafening. No one had ever spoken to your father that way, not even Max or Jos, but the fact that Charles was the first to do it was something... Shocking, especially for you.

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze flickering between the slammed door and Charles. “I... Charles.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He whispers back. “Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong sweetie.” he takes your hand in his. “He's such a jerk.” He pulls you towards the door, a newfound determination in his eyes. “We're leaving, now. We can deal with your father later, together, okay?” he says.

You hesitate for a moment, then you nodded in agreement, as you walk out of the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn and whispers follow. But you don't care anymore, you have each other, and that's all that matters.

You two step out into the cool evening air, the roar of the Italian crowd a distant hum. Your hands are intertwined, a silent promise against the warm setting sun.

You two may have a long road ahead, filled with challenges and disapproval, but you'll face it together, a united front against the storm.

“Thank you... For what you did in there.” You say softly, he smiles and brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“It's nothing ma belle, I know I may not know the whole story since the begging, but I'm willing to help you.” he says the same in a whisper.

“I just want to know... Who told you about it?” you asked softly.

“Max told me.” He says and you laugh.

“I thought so! It doesn't bother me that he did it anyway.” you say and let out a giggle while you shake your head. “I think it's something you deserved to know.”

He smiles at you tenderly. “How about we forget this mess with your father with a good pizza, huh?” he says softly.

“And where would we go?” you shyly asked him.

“We can go to my hotel room... Unless you don't want to, I know it would be awkward but... I don't know, ugh.” He said and started babbling, you smiled seeing him like that, it seemed like the cutest thing of all, seeing him nervous about doing something simple with you.

You smiled and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “I would love to eat pizza with you in your hotel room Charlie.” you say softly. “So it's a date?”

“It's a date.” He says softly as he kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle. “A date between Ferrari's golden boy and the red bull girl.” he says in a whisper while letting out a giggle.

You smiled tenderly. “You couldn't have said it better.” You whispered back.

To think that a couple of months ago you had not imagined that situation, to see Charles against your father and defending you like a true gentleman, but here you two were. Maybe at the beginning not everything was rosy or he simply didn't tolerate you at all due to false "nepotism" status around you, but you both understand how difficult and complicated this world is, maybe with different perspectives, but you two are there to support each other in the ups and downs.

#f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x horner!reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles x horner!reader #charles x reader #mariclerc fics #charles x you

[drvscarlett]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

Pierre Gasly x ex!reader

Summary: The 4 times that they break up and get back together and that 1 time they didn't.

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: im on a roll with updating the Tortured Drivers Department now that im nearly done with every reqs. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think or feel about this

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

Pierre and Y/N are the type of people that is confusing to talk about. No one really knows the big deal between the two of them, are they friends or are they lovers? One minute everything is all good, they are about to go to the store and pick out rings then the next thing that you know they already broke up. What was constant was that they always find their way back to each other.

Maybe it’s the lifestyle that makes it work; Pierre is a famous F1 driver that travels the world most of the year while Y/N is a grand recluse of a writer that is trying to find her way to the market. They don’t need much time from each other, and they understand the busy structure of their work.

Maybe its also the fact that they have years of friendship backing them up that's why they were able to last long with each others antics. So, what happened to them?

I.

The first kind of break ups were pretty silly. It was usually something that could be fixed in a matter of hours or a day being away from each other. Its something very random and weird like this.

"Wait, so you are breaking up with me because you are writing?"Pierre was confused.

Pierre had been in relationships before but he has never once heard of someone wanting to break up with him because she has to meet a certain deadline.

He felt very whiplash by the whole situation because she was just kissing him and they were cuddling in bed in the morning. Now she wants to break up with him.

"Yes Pierre, I need to be in my most heartbroken self to write my best lines"Y/N confirms.

"So does this mean that once you finish this thing you are working on then we can get back together?"Pierre clarifies.

Y/N nods as she brings out her working laptop and a notebook.

"So should I say something mean or should I just leave you be to your senses?"Pierre wondered.

"Do you really wanna break up with me so badly?"Y/N had too much of Pierre's question

Pierre raised his hands in defeat.

"Okay then lets break up"

Pierre headed straight back to his room to allow Y/N to work on her things. He chuckles at himself with the weird antics of his girlfriend, (or should he say ex girlfriend) but he busies himself with some emails that he has from work.

It took Y/N two days before she comes crawling to their shared bed. Pierre was in a sleepy state when Y/N snuggled to his arms.

"Are you done?"Pierre wondered.

"Yeah,just passed my manuscript"Y/N agrees.

"Can I call you my girlfriend again?"

II.

Qualifying was extremely difficult today with Pierre taking p15. To make matters worse there was this pressing issue that Pierre might be axed from the team. It honestly frustrated him to the point that he was only doing sim work, training, and more training.

It worries Y/N a great deal especially when Pierre seems so out of it.

"Pierre c'mon get some rest" Y/N begged.

It was already 2 in the morning and there was still a race tomorrow but he insisted on hitting the gyms to train.

"You are going to be exhausted later during the race if you keep doing this"Y/N reminds.

"I don't care, I have to work hard"

"Pierre please listen to me"

"You're the one who is not listening to me"Pierre snaps "Don't you realize that I have the possibility to lose everything that I have worked hard for if they cut me off the team."

Y/N was in shock with the sudden outburst and if Pierre was in his usual self then he would have immediately apologized for raising his tone. But Pierre was far from thinking clearly.

"Pierre that was not nice"

"Nothing is ever nice in this world"scoffs Pierre.

"Look I'm just trying to help you he-"

"You know what, why not just break up with me so I can focus on my thing without anyone nagging" Pierre suggested.

She could feel the tears prickling her eyes and threatening to fall. But her mother did not raise her cry over a stupid boy like this.

"You're really going there huh" Y/N said "See if I care"

With a slam of the door, Y/N was gone and Pierre felt even more antsy than ever. It wasn't the fact that he has a messed up weekend but he has the possibility of messing up a good relationship because of his blind rage.

In a couple of hours despite Y/N implying that she didn't care, she was at the race patiently waiting for the lights to go out. It was difficult for her to just leave Pierre especially when he is in this state of mind.

But of course, Y/N's pride was something that she holds dear that is why she didn't show up to Pierre's garage. It is kind of weird to see the crowd of yellow and black colors but Y/N was so glad that she has Isa by her side to join her during the race.

"Never gets easier to let him go for races huh"Y/N comments as she watched Isa putting on Carlos' helmet.

"Well, I'm sure he tries his best to be careful on the track" Isa smiled.

"Why aren't you giving any pre-race goodluck kisses to Pierre? He might need it" Carlos suggested.

Y/N could just roll her eyes, Pierre wasn't superstitious like that.

"Okay laugh all you want but don't make me say I told you so if he gets involved in an accident"Carlos warns.

"Don't mind Carlos, he is just joking"Isa shrugs it off.

"But Isa, its true remember when-"

"Stop stressing Y/N out Carlos, go race and be safe"

"Aye aye"

Y/N watched the playful interaction before the couple parted ways. The scene struck a chord in her heart because she knew that she could never act that way with Pierre. Their whole relationship was a secret that only the grid knows Y/N is off limits. But outside the grid, no one knows about it. Fans equate them as close friends but never more than that.

"What's on your mind honey?"Isa asked

"Nothing Isa, I'm okay"

Y/N showed a weak smile and Isa was hesitant to press things but she just let friend be.

"Look the race is starting"Y/N diverts.

The sound of the engines filled the air and off the cars go. Y/N watched as everyone gets off with a decent start, she could only hope that there was no incident today especially for Pierre's sake.

Everything happened all of a sudden as white smoke filled the air and a loud collision was heard. The cameras were quick to pan to the accident and the two girls clutched each other's hands as the smoke clears.

"It's Nico, its not Carlos" someone from the garage reassured Isa and the girl could feel a sigh of relief.

However, the same cannot be said to Y/N as the frustrated team radio of Pierre can be heard and the familiar livery was seen in the middle of the wreck.

Any amount of pride or memory of what he said last night was suddenly thrown out of the window. She just wants to know how he is or if he is safe from that tragic collision.

"Y/N, they're going to check on Nico" Isa pointed out to some Renault people "You should probably go since Pierre would be there too"

Y/N was about to deny that she didn't want to see him but Isa had a stern look on her face.

"Just go honey"

And she comes running to the medical bay to look for the injured man. She was a bit thankful that precautions have been made in this sports that allowed drivers to walk away from such accident without major damages.

Maybe, a bruised ego is their biggest worry now.

"Y/N"Pierre was confused to see her.

Maybe the damage has been far more worse than he imagined because he was now seeing things. As far as he could recall, Y/N was not around when the race started. So how is she here?

"God, you scared me P"Y/N wrapped him in a hug.

Pierre was a little bit sore from the crash but there was this instant warm feeling knowing that Y/N didn't abandon him. Even if he was really moody and too shitty, Y/N was still there for him.

He remembers how terrible it was being in that car and thinking that the last memory he shared with Y/N is a bad one. He didn't feel great at all so he held her as if its his second chance.

"I didn't mean what I said last night"Pierre whispered "I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I wasn't thinking straight and there is just a lot of pressure-"

"It's okay, I know Pierre"Y/N consoles "I won't be leaving you anytime soon"

A chaste kiss was shared between the two of them, a symbol that they have reunited once more.

III.

The third time they broke up was when Pierre asked her hand for marriage and she didn't say anything.

After being constantly invited to weddings, Pierre is bound to pick up some courage to ask Y/N out. He developed this dream that he wants a life with Y/N and he is ready to take it to the next level. Knowing Y/N, he picked the right size and the perfect ring. He also knows her dream proposal place which is somewhere with a view of the city.

He had everything planned out perfectly so imagine his surprise when she answers.

"Pierre, I can't do this" Y/N dropped the bomb.

"What? Why?"

Y/N felt like an extreme asshole because everything was perfect. Any girl would say yes to this prime opportunity of marrying their childhood bestfriend but Y/N sees through things.

"Pierre we aren't even official to the public and now you want to escalate it to marriage" Y/N reasons.

"So that's it, you don't want to marry me because I can't call you mine in public?"

"It's not just that" Y/N sighs "but our careers are just taking off and we haven't talked about our relationship yet and suddenly were going to go to marriage"

What Y/N saying was valid but Pierre was not listening to any of it. He felt very crushed and he could not think straight at the moment.

"Let's just break up if you can't see a future with me"

"Pierre, you know that's not what I meant"

"Then tell me how would you feel if the person you truly loved didn't want to marry you"Pierre roared.

It was a devastating scene between the two of them. How Y/N wished that she could undo what she said a few minutes ago but she knows that she only means well. A rushed marriage will also lead to rush separation and she will not put herself to that.

"Let's break up then, I think its best if we go our seperate ways for the time being"Pierre concludes.

It took them three long weeks before they got back together. It was due to an intervention by Charles that allowed them to speak again and talk their differences. Pierre has been more understanding now and heard Y/N's point out.

They got back together but it felt like there is a huge crack that took a heavy blow with their relationship.

IV.

Y/N had a terrible day at work with her manuscript being asked to be revised by her publisher. All she needs was a good rest and possibly some cuddles with Pierre. She prays as she twist the doorknob that Pierre was not in his one of his moods.

"Mon amour"Pierre called out "I was waiting for you"

Pierre can cook but it doesn't mean that he does it often. It was a good surprise for Y/N to see the dinner table set with all of her favorite dishes and an array of fresh flowers in a bouquet. She eyes the man warily as she takes a seat

"I didn't miss any important dates, didn't I?" Y/N asked.

"Is it bad that I wanted to do something special for you?"

In other days, she would want to argue about it but for today she didn't want to do any of that. She had no energy to question Pierre's weird behavior and she just wants to enjoy the dinner with him.

It was a lovely dinner but Y/N knows that Pierre was hiding something from her. As she was putting away the plates, she knew that she had to get an answer or she may fall asleep overthinking things.

"What is going on P, I'm actually scared you did something stupid that's why you are buttering me up so much"

Pierre lets out a heavy sigh, they knew each other too well that they can't really keep a secret with each other.

"My PR talked to me today and they wanted to announce a relationship to help my whole image"Pierre confesses.

Articles are very easy to miss but as a writer, Y/N knows how a different usage of an article changes the meaning of the sentence. Pierre used "a" rather than "the" which means he is not referring to their relationship.

"Who is it?"Y/N wondered

"She's a model, her name is Caterina" Pierre explained.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Y/N dried out the dishes. She knew that this was all because she was not very marketable due to her timid personality. She was not even famous for her books so that's another reason. Bottom line, they can't announce her because she seems very different from Pierre and she is not the WAG material.

"How long?"

Y/N was used to this kind of treatment. She felt like she accepted this as long as she can get to keep Pierre at the end of this whole thing. People would think she is crazy but love makes people do crazy things.

"Just 6 months and its over"Pierre answered.

It was also very difficult for Pierre's end. He have tried to lobby that he wanted to announce his relationship with Y/N but he is held by a contract. If he decides to deviate then he might lose his seat.

He knows how difficult it was to ask her for this but he had no choice.

"I'll get packing then and I'll move out in the next few days"Y/N mumbles.

Pierre stopped her for leaving and held her tightly. She instantly melts in his hold and she easily reminds herself why she puts up with all of this.

"I love you, don't you forget that"

The world moved with Caterina being announced as Pierre's girlfriend. However, they didn't know that after 6 months then Pierre is back to Y/N's arms. It was always Y/N and Pierre even if the world can't see it.

V.

It started with a normal dinner reservation.

Y/N has been promised by Pierre that he will take her out for dinner. They both understand that the past few weeks has been tiring for the two of them with the stress of racing, writing, and personal issues. The dinner is a nice way to reconnect with each other.

However, here she was already an hour waiting for Pierre to show up.

The hour goes from two to three and by the fourth hour, she decided that she will just go home. She have felt upset with Pierre before but this was a different kind of upset. It's not something to be fixed by flowers, vacations, or any of those stupid letters he does.

She reaches their shared apartment and started packing her stuffs. Her mind was already made up and this time it was going to last. The relationship was doomed to failure anyways.

And just before she finished packing, Pierre stumbles in.

"Y/N, do you have a schedule tonight?"Pierre asked.

He was met with silence as the writer ignores him.

"Oh c'mon what did I do wrong this time?"Pierre complains "Sit and talk with me Y/N"

Pierre could only stop Y/N by bringing all her packed clothes out of her suitcase. Something that heavily irritated Y/N, which caused her to finally speak.

"Can you just let me pack in peace"Y/N begged.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong"Pierre stops "Do you have a flight somewhere? Maybe I could drive you"

"You don't have to drive me Pierre"

"Then what's going on, I arrive here and you are fuming there-"

"You made me fucking wait four hours"Y/N snapped.

Pierre racked his brains for anything that he missed and he suddenly remembered how he reserved dinner with her. He felt like all the color drained on his face.

"Don't do this, I'll make it up to you Y/N" there was a desperation in Pierre's voice.

"I can't, we can't keep doing this P"Y/N admits it "We keep on breaking up and then making up then we act like this is a healthy relationship. We can't do this"

Strong arms wrapped around Y/N's waist and she could feel the wetness on her shoulders as Pierre buried his face there. It was proving more and more difficult for Y/N to leave him.

"I have to do this P, for you and for me"she remains firm.

"Tell me you don't love me"Pierre refuses to let go.

And Y/N cannot admit that because she knows she will always love Pierre. But she was scared that in loving Pierre so much then she may not have any love left for herself. She doesn't know what to do if she loses Pierre so its best if she will be the one to let go of him first.

"I'm sorry Pierre"

With a heavy heart, she removes the him away from her. She picks up her bags and closes the door. She left without taking a look back at the man she has loved from childhood till now because she knows that the moment she sees him then all form of control she has will evaporate.

And everything was two years ago. Here is Y/N with her third best-selling novel book signing tour. Sometimes she likes to think that she lost Pierre to be able to write the books that made her extremely famous. Most of the times, she wishes it never happened because she would rather have Pierre than these best selling novels.

It was her first time in Europe for work. She was often here to watch and support Pierre from the sideline. She never thought that she will be back in Europe so loved and so adored.

But it seems like destiny has a way of messing things up.

"Hi! What's your name?"she greets the woman in front of her.

Even though it has been a long day, she managed to master the art of keeping a perfect smile. She understands how the fans have been waiting in line for so long and she has to give them the best experience as she signs their book.

"My name is Kika, I'm a huge fan of yours" the woman introduced.

Y/N looked up to take a look at her. Kika had a dazzling smile and has this certain aura that exudes her charmingness. Y/N felt that she should be the one asking for Kika's signature because she looks like a stunning goddess.

"I really love the way you write things and I used to read it with my boyfriend when he is not racing"Kika narrates.

Racing, its been a while since Y/N heard that. She completely cuts off that certain topic ever since she left Pierre.

"Oh that sounds like a fantastic way to bond as a couple"Y/N agrees

"Yeah and actually my boyfriend told me that he knows you. I was actually wondering if he is joking but I figured that maybe he is"

There was this sinking feeling in her heart but Y/N would like to think that she made some friends in the F1 grid so this may be their girlfriend. Or maybe her boyfriend is bluffing.

"He races? In what kind of race"Y/N asked,she was careful.

"Oh he does Formula 1, his name is-"

"Kika mon amour"

Y/N didn't have to hear the voice twice to know who that voice belongs to. She knows that voice very well and she couldn't believe her rotten luck.

"Pierre, we were just talking about you"Kika embraces Pierre.

Pierre was shifting nervously and Y/N suddenly realized that Kika doesn't know anything about the shared history between the two of them.

"Oh so you are Pierre's new girl" Y/N knew how to act "I'm so pleased to meet you and yes I know Pierre from childhood"

"See mon amour, I was not lying"Pierre teased.

"So you do know her, we should definitely set up a lunch or dinner together"Kika exclaimed "I can't believe that my favorite author is your childhood friend"

She has that bright and genuine smile on her face. It was that certain genuineness that Y/N makes her heart crack. Why did she have to be so sweet and kind, its so difficult to fault her of anything.

"Y/N is one of the best authors, I know" Pierre proudly states "She has a way of tugging hearts"

"Indeed she has, I remember that when I first started reading one of your series I was so hooked and I wanted to pattern my dream partner to how you write the character of.."Kika babbles.

And everything felt like fading in the background. But Y/N didn't miss how Pierre was looking at Kika so lovingly and so endearing while Kika was rambling excitedly. The heart that was once healed was getting torn up once more because of what's happening in front of her.

#the tortured drivers department #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x imagine #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x y/n

[the---hermit]

05|06|2024

New day new struggles working on this history paper. I cannot stress enough how stressed I am about how bad the new research interface of my uni is, I feel like ever since they did the big update it's super complicated to get results that have to do with what you are looking for and that are accessible too. Moreover no one cares about this topic because I genuinely cannot find anything. I have found a couple of articles to help me with context but not much. By the end of the week I plan on finishing reading and highlighting what resources I have found and then I'll see what I can make of them, and get back to the professor. I am procrastinating emailing her back because I have no idea what to say tbh. My English lit review on the other hand is going pretty well, and reviewing in the afternoons seems to be a good plan. Since I am a bit more tired having to review out loud helps me with staying focused, and I also don't have to read historical sources all day, or else I'd lose my mind. This afternoon I struggled to stay focused anyway, but at least I got some stuff done, if I had to continue my history research I wouldn't have done anything probably. My brain is just very very tired again.

Today's productivity:

started my morning with an audiobook

more struggling looking for historical sources (I found a couple more but I am keeping those for the very end because they are once again not 100% relevant to what I have to do)

read and highlighted quite a few sources I downloaded at the beginning of the week (a couple were more or less useful a couple were a waste of time, but maybe I'll quote a couple of context details in the end, who knows. At the moment I only need to read two more and then I am done with my first round of secondary sources, but one of those might get deleated because I'm pretty sure is totally useless)

got to practice my French because of a couple of said historical sources, and wrote down the new words I learned today (surprisingly my understaning is better than I expected giving that I have not used my French in years, I should really get back to it more seriously)

continued my first outloud review of all my English lit materials (today I started working on the Shakespeare part, it will take a couple of days to finish it, especially bc today I didn't do as much as I had hoped)

wrote a little summary of a couple of sentences for all the scenes of The Merchant Of Venice in order to review it without having to reread it for the fourth time

#studyblr #studyinspo #uniblr #university #historyblr #journal #studying #productivity #journaling #knife gang #mine #the---hermit #the tired brain cronicles continue

[starhotchgf]

Boss Bitch

Where Y/N has gone more than a year without making fun of the guys she dated, but Aaron finds a way around his employee's situation.

warnings: overstimulation, squirting, period mentions, rough sex, pet names, mature content.

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Working at the BAU was something she had dreamed of since she was just a child and at the same time something that had come true before she could have imagined, making her a young agent, just like Spencer was, even though you were still older than the genius with more PHDs than a normal human being could imagine. She had been there for a little over two years, working with something she liked and making friends she could never have imagined before.

Emily, JJ and Penelope were her best friends, whether it was to comfort her when she had a bad day or got scolded by Hotch or also to have girls' nights and get a little drunk while talking unfiltered in Garcia's office. That wasn't the case at the moment, since they weren't in the living room of any of the girls there, but in the unit's break room. The last case had been solved in two days and with all the reports finished there was no harm in taking a few minutes to gossip and update each other on the group's latest encounters with some guys.

“He was extremely attractive and for a few minutes I thought he might be different from the other guys I’ve dated and would be able to give me at least a little pleasure, which clearly didn’t happen and so I ended up frustrated in my bed for another night. I think the lack of orgasms has been making me more stressed than my period.” You sighed, taking a sip from your cup of coffee. “Why is it that the men I date are so bad in bed?”

“Are you telling me that in the last few weeks you haven’t had an orgasm?” Garcia asked, looking shocked by that revelation that none of her friends expected. “It’s only been weeks, right?”

“Actually I don’t think I’ve cum in a year and a few days, it’s like I never get out of that pre-cum haze and the men I’ve dated definitely didn’t even help me get there.” You confessed, laughing weakly when you saw the shocked looks on the women’s faces. “I’m a difficult person in these aspects.”

“I don’t know how you’re putting up with this. I swear that if I went more than two days without cumming, I’d go completely crazy and pull my own hair out.” JJ said, gesturing exaggeratedly with her hands. “Not even by yourself?”

Your shake of the head made the blonde’s eyes widen, taking another big sip from the cup of coffee she had in her hands. You could be sure that they had consumed more coffee in those few minutes of conversation than they would have consumed during the entire work week at the agency.

The conversation continued for the next few minutes, being bathed in tips that they would never have heard anywhere else and without any filter as it was spoken in that small room. What no one expected was that Aaron was listening to the obscene story that you told with frustration. Something grew inside him and the man knew exactly what he should do. Something that had been kept for much longer than could be put into words.

…

“Hey Y/N, wait a minute, I need to talk to you.” Your boss’s voice made you stop in your tracks. You didn’t need to look at your friends to know what they looked like at that moment. You just felt someone patting you on the shoulder before the women walked away completely, leaving the office along with Derek, Spencer, Luke, and Rossi. “Do you have something to do? I don’t want to keep you here if you have a more important commitment.”

“I have nothing to do, Hotch. I can stay as long as you need me to.” You looked into the older man’s eyes, ignoring the shock that ran down your spine in an electrifying way, almost causing a small spasm in your limbs. “Is it something about the case?”

“Just call me Aaron, honey. We don’t need formalities when it’s just the two of us.” The man laughed, leaning against his desk in a relaxed manner. You never imagined that the older man could become even more attractive with a small gesture and a mere affectionate nickname. You had never heard that masculine and soft tone in his voice. “I want to invite you, Y/N. Would you like to have some wine with me at my place? Jack went to a school camp, just you, me, wine and a probably bad movie that might be playing at this time.”

Her gaze rose until she met her boss again, feeling the same shiver as before, but in a different way, because looking into his eyes, she found desire, not just any desire, the perversion of that invitation that the man made with such a calm and soft tone of voice was palpable. If she wasn’t a profiler, she wouldn’t notice the lust hidden behind those good intentions.

“That would be great, Aaron.” She smiled, with that same perverse desire behind the innocent look she directed at the taller man. Maybe this was the chance to get out of that exhausting and frustrating fog she was in.

“It will be great to have you at my house, dear.”

…

The wine glasses were on the coffee table, the bottle in the middle of both, already half full at that point in the night. Small laughs came from their lips as they listened to yet another story about the older man's youth; they barely paid attention to the movie playing on television, too entertained with each other. Aaron already had a few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, the same piece that was unbuttoned from his pants, lifted in a way that showed only a small part of the 'V' line of his abdomen. There was no denying how attractive that man was, the years between you and him were what made your chest race and your breath pant the most.

Your own jacket was already off your body, the tight, long-sleeved blouse you were wearing highlighted your curves, just as that low-cut top made your breasts even more beautiful and appetizing in the eyes of your boss. The tight pants you were wearing that night left your thighs tight and spread across the sofa upholstery. Your long hair fell to your shoulders, covering part of your breasts visible through the tight neckline you were wearing.

“Is everything okay, honey? You suddenly went silent,” the man said, her gaze rising to meet his. She was sure her face was red at that point, and the provocative tone in the man’s voice didn’t help with the embarrassment. “Don’t worry, I can’t take my eyes off you either. Ever since you arrived at the BAU, with that curious and scared look, you looked like a lost little puppy.” He spoke softly, using one of his hands to brush her hair away from her cleavage. “But hearing you talk about how sexually frustrated you’ve been in the last few months gave me the courage to bring you here. I want to show you what should be done to a girl like you, honey. You deserve so much more than inexperienced brats who don’t know how to take care of that needy little thing that you are.”

“A-Aron,” she stammered, feeling her face heat up even more, her lips parting in a sigh as she felt his large hand wrap around her neck, only creating an attractive pressure in the place. “Did you hear that?”

“I heard everything, baby, every detail of how bad they’ve been, not getting you out of this horrible fog you’re stuck in, but in a way I thank them, if it weren’t for their terrible performance, I wouldn’t have the chance to be here. Now be a good girl and come to my lap,” Hotchner whispered, taking his hand off your neck so he could slap one of his thighs, indicating where you should sit. “But first take off your pants, just keep that pretty blouse and panties on, honey, I want to see how pretty my girl is.” It was almost humiliating how quickly you obeyed him, getting up from the couch, taking off your boots and socks to finally remove your tight jeans, revealing the light lace panties you were wearing to cover your already wet intimacy. You didn’t need to move, the man was quick to pull you to straddle one of his thighs, the surprise friction made you moan softly at the contact, that was music to the older man’s ears. “I’m not just going to take you once tonight, darling, I’m going to make up for all those frustrating months you’ve been through. I’m going to make you cum until you pass out in my arms from exhaustion, until you’re left speechless from screaming my name every single time. Do you hear me?” You nodded, shaking your head frantically as you felt your juices getting even wetter on his dress pants, further increasing the dark stain that was appearing on the fabric. “So fuck yourself on my thigh, I want to see your pretty face as you feel pleasure, like the needy, delicious little thing that you are, does that sound good to you? Answer me with words, I want to hear your voice.”

“O-Okay.”

The man smiled at her tone of voice, holding her hips to make her move against his thigh, making her moan loudly and grab his shoulders, squeezing his skin over the button-down shirt he was still wearing. The friction of the fabric of her panties and his pants against her pussy was making her eyes not stay open for long, the pleasure of just doing that was devastating for her little body, which had been so long without feeling anything like that.

“You look so fucked up just riding my thigh, baby, moving that wet pussy and making a mess in daddy’s pants, don’t you?” Aaron smirked, holding her jaw with one hand, the other kept moving her hips, increasing the friction of her pussy on his leg. “I’m going to fuck you until you forget all the times you went out with a man, you’re going to cum until I decide I’ve had enough.”

“Daddy.” Another moan escaped your lips, your mouth remaining open long enough for a trickle of saliva to run down your chin and drip onto the same spot where your juices were, increasing the wet mess on the man’s pants. “I-I want to cum, please.”

“But I’m not stopping you, darling. Why are you begging?” The man looked at you with a smile on his face, surprised to realize that all you needed was a command. Aaron enjoyed listening to you moaning, trembling on his lap as if you were going to faint at any moment. “Do you need me to tell you? That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He brought one of his hands to your hair, pulling it roughly so that you could look into his eyes. The darkness of desire was much clearer than any light. “You can come, pretty girl. Come for me.”

It only took those words for you to come on his lap, cumming until your eyes rolled back and your body spasmed constantly. Your cum came out in an impressive amount from your pussy, wetting the man's pants even more. Aaron held your body against his chest, running his hand through your hair until you stopped shaking.

“Fuck,” you gasped, looking up to meet the man's eyes, still dark with desire. Aaron smiled sideways, pushing your still weak body so that you lay down on the couch. The man was taller than you, considerable and attractive inches, he hovered over you, moving his hands until they found the soaked fabric of your panties. “Aaron, please,” you whimpered, closing your legs until the man's hand was trapped between them.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs wide for me, okay?” he said, his lips so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath hitting your face. It didn't take much for you to open your legs for him, moaning sensitively as you felt the fabric being pushed aside and the man's fingers moving against your lips, the wet noise seemed to echo through the silent room. "So wet, my love," you whispered, bringing your sticky fingers to your own lips, licking your cum until your digits were clean.

You couldn't hold back when you grabbed the back of the man's neck and pulled him until your lips were glued to each other, delighting in your own cum that was in his mouth. Aaron held your waist, pressing your body into the soft upholstery of the sofa, one of his hands returned to between your legs, two fingers were enough to make you almost scream against the older man's lips. He thrust them in roughly, your eyes rolling back as you felt each movement of his long, thick fingers fucking your pussy as if they were his cock. The wet noise was the only thing to be heard besides your moans during the kiss.

“You squeeze my fingers so well, darling, showing how much you want to cum again, even though you can barely keep those fucking legs straight.” He laughed sensually, breaking the kiss with his hand on her neck, squeezing until her mind was spinning a little, the amount of oxygen reduced until she was panting between moans and small screams, which increased as her second orgasm arrived.

“AARON” Your scream reverberated through those walls, when once again you reached your peak, cumming hard on the man’s fingers, until your vision went white and thick tears ran down your eyes, further increasing the wet mess that was already dripping on the couch.

Your mind was blank at that moment, but your pussy still contracted in anxiety when the man removed his fingers, hearing the soggy noise that echoed through the room, that caused a sideways smile on your lips. Aaron caressed your neck, running his other hand over your bust, taking advantage of the moment to take off the blouse you were wearing, revealing the lacy bra that held your full breasts. You looked at him with teary eyes, your face red from the tears and the effort of the orgasms that took over your body in a few minutes of rest between them.

“Even after cumming twice, are you still eager for more, dear? You are a needy little thing who deserves to be taken care of properly, to cum until your brain stops working properly and you can't say a single word completely." He said smiling, squeezing one of your breasts with the hand that ran over your abdomen. Your body was sitting on the couch, the man on his knees between your legs, using both hands to slide your panties down your legs, leaving a trail of his cum on your skin, the underwear made a wet sound as it was thrown to the floor, your bra followed suit seconds later. You were completely naked in front of the older man. "I'm going to taste you and take you in my mouth, then I'm going to fuck you with my cock until you have no more voice from screaming so much." Your cry of surprise was clear and loud when the man connected his lips with your sensitive and soaked pussy, your hands automatically flew to his dark hair, pulling and moving in a confused way. Your eyes rolled back, your head falling against the back of the furniture, everything seemed to spin around you. She felt her intimacy tightening against the older man's tongue, which went in and out, licking bundles between her lips, taking everything that was left of her previous orgasms, while a new one formed at the base of her belly.

Her thighs opened and closed, until his large hands held her open, squeezing the flesh until the red marks of his fingers were there. New tears were already running down her eyes, wetting her red and hot cheeks, her hand clenched in the strands of the man's hair, the other digging her nails into the upholstery of the sofa, her brain not working properly, her vision with white spots as another wave of cum burned in her pussy. Aaron smiled against her lips, using his fingers to press her clitoris when her orgasm finally hit her body for the third time, sobs leaving her lips as she felt the man's mouth continue sucking her intimacy, enjoying every new drop of her liquid. Confused and pleasurable screams came from his lips, repeating the older man's name constantly, his legs trembling when the fourth orgasm came a few seconds later, his eyes rolled back and saliva dripped from his open mouth, dripping onto his neck and running down to his breasts.

"You taste perfect, honey." The taller man smiled, his lips dirty from his cum as he stood up. He ran two fingers over his lips, cleaning them and bringing them to his mouth, which automatically opened to receive the man's long digits. He closed his eyes as he felt his own taste. He sucked his boss's fingers until they were completely clean, running his tongue over them as if he were sucking his cock. "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your own name, Y/N."

A confused smile appeared on her lips, but her legs opened again, as if they were an invitation to the man, who laughed and landed a weak slap on his face, making she open her eyes and moan from the small fright. Aaron was amused by her expression of pleasure and exhaustion, all that frustration and knot in her eyebrows had fallen with each of her orgasms.

“Let’s go to my bed.”

Your body was carried to the man's room, your legs entwined around his waist and your head resting gently on his shoulder. Your eyes opened when you felt the soft mattress hit your back, you sighed and looked around, too confused to care about anything other than the older man. Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor, his pants and underwear followed suit soon after, you smiled sideways, admiring your boss's body, your gaze falling on the large, thick, erect cock that rested on his defined abdomen.

The older man walked to the bed, kneeling on the mattress as he stood between your legs, which automatically wrapped around his waist. His erection rubbed against your pussy, which was once again wet, leaving a small stain on the light sheet. Your eyes met, your hands holding his broad shoulders, your nails weakly biting the light skin.

"Fuck me, Daddy," you begged, your lips parting in a low moan as you felt the thick phallus forcing against your wet hole. Aaron entered slowly, enjoying the anxious and tearful expression that his face took on, her eyes closing and opening until he finally took the older man's entire cock, his nails scratching the skin of his shoulder harder. The man moaned hoarsely, bringing one of his hands until it was pressed against the base of his belly, the burning was pleasurable, forming tears in her eyes. "O-Oh yes, please, that feels so good."

"Please what, honey?" He asked, still not moving, his hand pressing harder on her belly, causing a loud moan and a new scratch, this time on his back. "Use your words."

"Move, please, I need you." She cried, biting her lips at the extreme pleasure that returned to her body again.

Aaron began to thrust inside her, hitting spots that made her crying increase, sobs mixing with the moans and prayers that took over her lips. The older man's hand was squeezing your abdomen, moans that also came out of your lips every time you pressed his cock inside you.

He moved his hand down to play with your clitoris, pressing two fingers against your mound of nerves, causing confused screams and saliva to run down your open lips, increasing the wet mess on your cheeks. The man smiled with a moan, moving his hand down to your pussy that received his cock so well, your eyes opened in surprise when you felt two fingers forcing their way in along with the man's penis.

Your body writhed on the sheet, your nails scratching more red lines on your back, your crying increasing with that strange sensation that formed at the bottom of your belly. The man's fingers curled inside you, at the same time that his cock entered and left you forcefully, making you even wetter than you already were. Your eyes closed, your lips remained open in frequent moans, your hands flying to the sheet, squeezing the fabric and pulling it tightly.

“AARON” She screamed, feeling her vision go white with that hot sensation in his belly. It only took one thrust for her to be spurting on his cock, a squirt of cum staining the man’s abdomen and increasing the mess on the sheets. She felt the older man cumming inside her, increasing the wet mess that her pussy had become. She closed her eyes tightly, breathing heavily and the tears that continued to fall from his eyes.

Aaron left you with a soaked sound, watching his cum drip from inside your pussy. You were a mess on the sheets, your eyes closed, your face wet with sweat, saliva and tears, your hair sticking to your forehead, your breathing labored and your chest rising and falling.

The man left the bed seconds later looking for clean sheets and a wet towel, which he used to clean your body and his own abdomen. Your eyes were still closed, your breathing calmer and no more tears running from your eyes. Aaron was careful when changing the bed cover, not making it lift at any point, he threw the dirty fabric on the floor and left the room, getting a glass of water from the kitchen before returning to bed.

“Honey, I need you to drink this, you need to hydrate.” He spoke softly, stroking her hair affectionately, her eyes opened tiredly, an exhausted groan leaving her lips “Come on, drink a little and then go to the bathroom, then we can sleep”

“I’m tired” She murmured, her voice hoarse and low. Aaron held the glass until she finished drinking, smiling proudly when he saw the empty glass. The man left a kiss on her forehead, leaving the glass on top of the dresser next to the bed. “Can you carry me?”

“Of course I can, my pretty girl” He laughed weakly, running his hands over your body until you were in his lap, on the way to the bathroom.

They went back to bed after a few minutes, you fell into a deep sleep the moment you laid your head on the man’s chest, with his large hands roaming your hair and waist.

“You’re adorable, Y/N”

#aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction

[niabang]

Nights Like This

Pairings: Chan × fem reader

Summary: Your boyfriend says he's stressed from work, so you help him relieve it.

Warnings: Smut included MINORS DNI. Fluff, aftercare, established relationship, sub chan?, dom reader?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), use of pet names like "honey," "baby," etc. Creampie, reader is a bit mean and Chan is a big man baby.

MORE UNDER THE CUT!

You were waiting for your boyfriend to get back home from work and counting down the hours till he did because you were worried about him.

You were worried because you texted him earlier in the day to ask how work was going and what he wanted to eat when he got back home.

He replied to you, saying he was stressed, couldn't wait to come back home, and that he didn't know what he wanted to eat just yet.

You told him to give you a call when he figured it out and wished him luck with work.

He called you a few hours later to tell you not to worry about him because he ended up getting dinner with the boys and was already on his way home.

You had dinner on your own and went upstairs to take a shower. Just as you were coming back down to do the dishes, you heard a key turn in the lock. Your baby was back.

"Hi honey." You said to him as he came in.

"Hi baby." He said and gave you a long tight hug plus a peck on your forehead.

You would never get tired of the way he smelt. That musky scent of his sweat mixed with perfume was so intoxicating that it clouded your brain in the best way possible.

"You good?" You asked him as he took off his hands from your waist.

"Yeah, I am, just a little tired, that's all." He said and started making his way upstairs.

"I'm gonna go take a shower then go to bed wanna join me?" He asked from the top of the stairs.

"I thought you said you were tired? And no, I just took one."

"Boo, you're so boring." He replied.

"Stop being a child Chan, go take your your shower." You said.

"Okay, mom." He scoffed.

You weren't looking at him, but you just knew he rolled his eyes before going into your shared bedroom to take his shower. He was such a child sometimes.

You made some hot chocolate for both of you and took it upstairs to your room.

On getting there, you met him putting on a black tank top, and he threw his black chrome hearts hoodie over it. The weather was pretty cold.

"Here you go." You said, handing him a mug, and the two of you retired to the bed.

"What made you so stressed at work today anyway?" You asked.

"I don't know how, but I lost a track, and it happened to be one I didn't backup, so we have to start recording all over again." You don't know why, but you laughed a bit after he said that.

"Are you laughing? What's so funny y/n?" He asked cocking an eyebrow.

"I don't know bro why didn't you back the file up?" You asked, still laughing.

"It's not funny, y/n." He said, looking angry.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You said and got on him, so you were straddling him.

"Aww, you look so tired, my baby. You need to sleep." You said while pushing his hair away from his forehead so you could leave a peck on it.

Just as you were about to get off your boyfriend so he could get some rest, he used his hands to hold your hips in place.

"Y/n, don't go." He said when you turned to look at him.

"Don't tell me you want another forehead kiss, Chris." You said trying to act cool like a volcano didn't erupt in your stomach, and your kit kat wasn't dripping.

"I like it when you get mad and call me Chris." He said with that cheeky smile you fell for every single time. You just couldn't help it.

"You're so annoying, just go to be -" You couldn't even finish your sentence before he cut you off with a kiss.

"Mhm." You couldn't help but moan. His lips were so soft and warm, and his tongue moved against yours so perfectly every thought in your head vanished.

He started moving your hips back and forth on his crotch and you almost reached the road of no return, but you came back to your senses.

"Wait, chan, we can't be doing this. You're stressed, and you need to rest before you go back to work tomorrow." You said.

"Help me relieve my stress y/n you're the one who can." He said, maintaining eye contact with his beady eyes that you hated so much. Fuck him he knew how to get you and he used his tricks every single time he had the chance to.

"Okay, you got me, but I'll do all the work. Don't move a muscle, okay?" He nodded his head in agreement and you went back to kissing him.

When you felt he was hard enough, and you were wet enough you got off him to take your shorts off, and he took his pants off to reveal his cock and his tip was already glistening with precum.

You were so tempted to take him in your mouth, but you wanted this to be as fast as possible, so you scratched that thought.

You climbed back on top of him and then used your hand to position his cock at your entrance.

"Ah fuck y/n." Chan moaned as he slipped inside you and you gasped as you felt him fill you up.

You held on to the headboard of your bed for more support and started moving up and down slowly to gain a set rhythm.

Once you set the pace for your self you started going faster. You were cock drunk with the way he was stretching you out and hitting your sweet spot every time you came down. You were seeing stars.

"Fuck y/n I'm not going to last if you keep on doing this." Chan said and held your hips to slow you down.

"Good because the idea isn't for you to last." You said and took his hands off you.

You bent down to give him a kiss while rotating your hips and grinding on his cock.

"It feels so good chan. Oh my God." Your legs almost gave up on you right there and then, but you remembered that if you couldn't go on chan would take control and that would defeat the whole point of you doing this so you held on to the headboard for support and went back to the previous pace you set for yourself.

After a while Chan's groans started getting louder, and he started bucking up in to you so you knew he was about to cum.

"Fuck y/n." He groaned as he held your hips down and coated your walls white."

"Mhmm." You moaned as you rode him off his high, and went back down to kiss him before you got off to lie on the bed.

You both let out a sigh once your back hit the bed and chan pulled you in to plant a kiss on your lips.

He had that cheeky smile that you hated on his face again because he knew he won. You wished you could slap it off him.

"You love me so much." He said, teasing you.

"No, I don't, go to bed." You said and turned away from him.

"Come here." He said while laughing and pulled you close to him.

"What?" You asked after turning back to face him.

"I love you." He said while placing his head on your chest and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I know." You replied, not wanting to give into him a second time.

"Say it back." He said.

"No." You shot back at him.

Your boyfriend just loved being a little shit and annoying the fuck out of you, so he did the best thing he could think of which was tickling you because he knew you hated it.

"Okay, okay, chan, stop, I love you too." You said through tears from laughing too much.

"Goodnight, y/n." He said.

"Goodnight, Chan." You replied and ran your hands through his hair till you both fell asleep.

#kpop #stray kids #kpop tumblr #bang chan #kpop fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bangchan fanfic #stray kids bang chan #stray kids fluff #skz #skz bang chan #bang chan fluff #bangchan smut #christopher bang #bangchan hard hours #bangchan fluff #bangchan stray kids #skz fluff #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids smut #dom reader #established relationship #bangchan x reader #bangchan x y/n #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz bangchan #bangchan skz #stray kids bangchan

[flowery-mess]

Matt filling in for your drummer

So I'm seeing all this Matt content today, not that I'm complaining. I was at a concert tonight and ugh I love a good female artist, BUT it sparked an idea in my little head...

I was giggling and kicking my feet in the air while writing this I hope you like it as much as I do

You as a singer are under Sumerian

That's how you met with Matt

Small talks led to a date

And dates led to a commited relationship

Sometimes it was hard with both of you being in the music industry and traveling for work

It's usually Matt away for months and when he comes back, you're leaving for your tour the next day

That's why Matt agreed to acompany you and your band and crew on your next tour in Europe

You being small singer, not as famous as BO, having concerts at small venues made it easier for you two travel and explore European cities together

Matt is touring with you as a your partner, he's not supposed to work

But he can't help it

He's always at the sound corner discussing with your sound tech that everything is ready

Which makes your sound tech uncomfortable, but you know Matt means well, he just wants everything to go perfectly so you don't have to worry and just enjoy performing

You enjoy this time spent together

And you really don't want Matt to work when he's supposed to enjoy his time off

But it wouldn't be your luck if everything went smoothly

Your drummer got sick, food poisoning

He really tried to work through it, but he was miserable

And who else can play drums?

Matt

When he saw you coming to him with your puppy face on, he knew you're going to ask him for something

"Can you play the drums for me tonight, please?"

And who could say no to your sad face

He didn't have to think about it, of course he's going to help in any way he can

He doesn't show it, but he's really excited about sharing the stage with you

He loves watching you perform, but oh to perform with you, he can't wait

He always gives you a kiss for good luck before the show, but tonight you kiss him for good luck back

The crowd cheers as your guitar player and Matt make their way to their spots

And they cheer even louder when you get behind the mic

After first few songs you make pause for a small talk

"So, sad thing happened earlier today, our drummer Josh got sick and he couldn't play with us tonight, but we found someone else, someone as good as Josh is, and I'm happy to introduce you my boyfriend behind the drums, please give a big applause for Matt Dierkes who saved this show tonight!"

You knew he's going to hate you for putting him on the spot later, but you could see his big smile when he waved at the crowd who cheered for him

You then continued with the show, enjoying every moment

You and Matt kept stealing glances at each other

You always dance on the stage, but tonight you danced infront of the drums a bit longer, watching Matt with adoration in your eyes

You love seeing him being passionate about something

But you also love seeing him play drums because it made him even more attractive

His arms, do I need to say more (I mean look at that last picture)

He has big arms and he wears short sleeves that show his muscles flex when he's hitting the drums

He has sweat on his forehead

When you make an eye contact with him, it sends shivers through your whole body, especially between your legs

You have to stop turning around to face him, because you're not going to finish the show with that view

After the last song all three of you walk off the stage and share a big hug

After this day filled with stress, because of the complications, everyone is tired and leaves the venue as soon s they can

Which means you and Matt are the last ones in the backstage room

"You're so hot on stage every time, but this view from behind the drums-" he stopped to place his hand over his heart "that's something I could get used to every single time." with that he put his hand around your thigh and pulled you down in his lap

You put your hands around his neck, leaning your forehead to his

"You can't imagine how many times I had to clench my thighs together just from the look of you on that stage tonight." you whispered in his ear which sent shivers down his neck

He placed his hands on your hips, giving you hint to start moving your hips

So you did, along with a moan that sent shivers down his neck once again

"Remind me what time does the bus leave?" he asks before attacking your neck with his lips

"They can wait." you moaned with your head thrown back giving him more space on your neck

And in fact, everyone on the bus had to wait that night

#matt dierkes #matt dierkes x reader #matt dierkes fanfiction #matt dierkes imagine #matt dierkes headcannon #matt dierkes smut #bad omens #bad omens blurb #bad omens headcanons #bad omens imagine #bad omens x reader #noah sebastian #jolly karlsson #nick folio #nick ruffilo

[rememberwren]

A Dichotomy of Thought || 3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Johnny has a good day.

Tw: ableism; implied sexual assault

#

That night you dream about fucking the two neighbors in 5C.

It’s good sex, too. You can tell by the sweat slicking your skin and the ache in your thighs. You are naked on the big one’s lap, his huge hands on your hips while he bounces you on his cock. Behind you, the shorter one loops his one arm around your waist and grinds his cock against your bare arse. 

“Did Jesus send ye?” his voice rasps against the sensitive side of your neck. You tilt your head to give him more room to suck and kiss and bite. Then, as his hand slips down to tease where you need a soft touch the most: “Are you gonna finish me off?” 

The one beneath you cums, a flood of warmth deep within your aching cunt. His groans have you teetering on the edge of your cut of the pleasure. You lean down to kiss him, but before your mouths can meet, hands grip your hips and lift you free—his cock slides out with a wet rush of fluids, leaving you feeling cracked open and empty.  

Your boyfriend passes you on to his friends who are waiting for their turn with you, and then it is no longer a dream, but a memory. 

#

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are for physical therapy. Tuesdays and Thursdays are for cognitive rehabilitation. Both of these are paid for by the British government and accomplished in the ‘comfort’ of Johnny’s own home. Like that’s supposed to help; he’s going to have to sweat (literally) and bleed (probably figuratively), but as long as it’s on his own carpet, that’s quite all right. Johnny isn’t sure which he hates more, the physical or cognitive rehab. Both hurt, just in different places; one hurts the stump of his arm, the muscles of his shoulders and neck, his fake knee. The other hurts his pride, leaves him tired and second guessing his broken mind. 

The other scares him. It’s one thing to lose his arm—one terrible, traumatizing thing. But the idea that he’s going (or gone) simple is too much to take.

The cognitive rehabilitation therapist’s name is Anna. She wears horn-rimmed glasses and sloppy buns that Johnny fantasizes about gripping in his fist and throttling her with during their less productive sessions. 

By sessions, he means they play games together. Simon sits on the sofa in the living room pretending not to watch. He thinks he’s so fucking clever, turning his pages even, but Johnny knows. Simon’s gaze is a tangible thing, as physical as a touch, like a finger running up the back of his neck. There’s no hiding from it. You don’t get a name like Ghost without raising the hairs on some people’s arms with just your eyes. 

“It’s your turn, Johnny.” 

“I fuckin’ know it. Sorry—sorry.” 

Anna puts up a hand to stall his sorries. She is younger than he is; shouldn’t she be older? Wouldn’t that make this less painful? “Take your time.” 

It’s a simple matching game. There are less than a dozen tiles left on the board, and Johnny has seen most of them two or three times by now. He keeps forgetting their placements, even though he is burdened with the memory of having chosen them. 

His shaking fingers reach for a tile…a red car. Sweat breaks out on his brow. He’s seen this fucking Red Car no less than six times. His fingers hover over the board, moving from one tile to the next. Here? Or here? If he sees the Rose again, he’ll lose his head; he knows it. He can feel his blood pressure rising like the mercury in a thermometer, up up and away, blackness eating at the edge of his vision.  

Finally, with absolutely no idea where the other red car is, he picks a tile at random. 

Red Car. 

Johnny shouts out in triumph, holding up the tile for Simon to see. Even Anna—eternally unimpressed Anna—gives him a smile, infected by his joy. 

“Good job—now do it again.” 

Groaning, he picks up another tile. 

Rose. 

#

“Come lay down with me,” he says to Ghost after taking two of the green, oval pills that are the only things which take the edge off his pain. They make him so fucking tired, though—perhaps that’s their secret; if they can’t take the pain away, they’ll at least help him sleep through it. 

“Alright,” says Simon, putting his book down. He doesn’t bother marking his place; they both know he wasn’t reading it.  

The two of them slip into the bedroom. It isn’t much: a bed against the southern wall, the doors leading out onto the balcony—blinds pulled shut to keep out any hopeful rays of sunshine, a desk piled high with medical bills that the government will front. 

Johnny is pretty good about getting his shirt off with just one arm. He reaches up and back, gripping the collar, and tugs it off over his head in a smooth, fluid motion. He’s thinner after his three-month stint first in the hospital and then in inpatient rehabilitation, but he still looks good. 

He hates the stump where his arm used to be, but today he doesn’t even care. It’s a good day, a purely tolerable day. He presses himself against Simon and kisses him, the first true-kiss he can remember giving him since the accident, though his memory is not what it used to be. Simon’s hands—large and warm and strong—settle on his waist pulling him closer. It’s desperate and messy, too much teeth and tongue, neither of them quite settling into the old easy dance they used to be capable of; likely because they aren’t the same people anymore. 

“Fuck, I want you,” Johnny pants against Simon’s feral mouth.

“You can’t,” Simon grits out, dragging Johnny’s hardened cock against his own. 

“Like hell I can’t!” Though…already his knee throbs, a deep ache punctuated by glass-like shards of sharpness when he bends it. He could take it—but it would hurt. But fuck, what doesn’t hurt these days? “I need you, Ghost.” 

Simon grips him by the hair which has grown out too long and badly needs trimmed. He tugs back til Johnny’s neck pops uncomfortably. “You’ll take what I give you,” Simon says, sounding on the verge of madness, at least as desperate as Johnny feels. 

“‘n what? I can’t beg for more?” 

“Oh, you can beg,” says Simon darkly. 

He pins Johnny against the sliding doors of the balcony, rustling the blinds around his body. Knees bent to bring them to just the right height, he fists both their cocks in one large hand, his face buried in Johnny’s neck, muffling groans against his skin.

“Yes,” Johnny gasps, his nails digging into Simon’s back. “Yes, jus’ like that—fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—“

Simon keeps jerking off his spent cock well after Johnny cums, even after he begins whining and pulling back, shoulders thudding against the glass doors behind him. Ghost makes Johnny fuck his fist through the sensitivity until he cums too, both their seed slickening his hand and turning the sound of his handjob filthy-wet. 

“Thank you,” Johnny sighs, blissed out. He doesn’t feel any pain, not in his stump or his knee or his head or anywhere. Maybe it’s the pills, but maybe it’s Ghost. Maybe it’s the relief of knowing they haven’t fucked up their relationship beyond all repair, that they’re still capable of loving one another like this. “I needed that. 

Simon feeds two fingers soaked in cum past Johnny’s full lips, relishing the way his hot mouth sucks the digits clean. He admits: “So did I.” 

He cleans them both up and they curl up on the bed together for Johnny’s afternoon nap—the doctors say all the sleep he needs is good for his brain. 

Simon doesn’t intend to fall asleep. But he does. 

And when he wakes, Johnny is not there beside him. 

#

You’re just thinking how cold it is out on the balcony, wondering if it is worth it to risk going back inside for a sweater, when the balcony doors from 5C open and out steps the man you almost hit with your car. He looks likely to be cold as well, wearing only a t-shirt and loose pants, his feet bare against the concrete. 

A cigarette is tucked in the corner of his mouth, unlit. He gapes at you, and it falls to the balcony floor. Glancing behind himself into the darkness of his apartment, he shuts the door with careful tenderness before bending down with a wince to pick up his cigarette. 

 The sleeve of his missing arm dangles innocuously. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.” 

“Sorry,” you say on instinct. It’s ingrained in you; a lifetime’s worth of apologies. “I can go in and give you some privacy.” 

“World’s big enough for two,” Johnny says coolly. There are chairs out here, but he doesn’t sit. Instead he leans against the doors with his good side and pretends to look out. It’s a lovely view of the parking lot. You do the same, except you can see the spot from here where you almost hit him with your car, and it makes your stomach turn. Speaking of: “Sorry about all that in the parking lot. My temper got the best o’ me.” 

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you admit. “I was distracted. I can’t say it enough, I’m so—so sorry.” 

“Water under the bridge,” he says. He holds out the only hand he has left. “Johnny MacTavish.” 

You hold out your own left hand, shaking via air from the distance between your balconies. When you give him your name, he mutters it under his breath two, three, four times. 

“I’m going to forget that,” he warns you at length with a sad little laugh, fiddling with the unlit cigarette still in his hand. “It’s not you, it’s me.” 

“It’s alright,” you forgive. “It’s pretty forgettable.” 

Johnny frowns, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and working his hand into his pocket. His accent is so sweet to listen to, syrupy and dropping the consonants off of his words as he assures you: “Didn’t say that, did I, lass? Don’t get twisted.” 

Mollified and embarrassed in equal measure at his simple admonishment, you duck your head. 

“Got a broken brain,” he says in explanation, reaching up to tap the cigarette against the scars at his temple. “Forgot one of my own sisters’ names on the phone last week and she wept like a bairn. In my defense, I have several of them.” 

“I forget people’s names and I don’t have a head injury,” you say. 

Johnny snorts softly, the sound carried away by the wind.

He withdraws a lighter, one of the cheap disposable ones you can buy beside the registers at gas stations. His hand shakes as he tries to spin the sparkwheel once, twice, thrice, but no dice. Johnny takes a deep, slow breath, like a little boy trying not to lose his temper. He tries again, the familiar noise of steel rasping on steel, but no spark. 

You wait, patiently, eyes turned out toward the parking lot as he begins muttering curses beneath his breath. Anxiety itches beneath your skin. His building anger is a tangible thing in the air like heat thrown off by a lit flame or the smell of burnt rubber, tires squealing in the parking lot as you slam on the breaks. A man’s anger is familiar to you. It predicts pain. Your skin flashes hot and then cold, and you are just about to make a polite escape inside when: 

“Can you catch?” he asks, sending your gaze swerving to him from the parking lot.

“Can I—? Fuck!” you throw your hands up just in time, scrambling for the lighter even though he only tosses it underhanded like an easy pitch for a tee-baller. It slips from one of your sweaty hands to the other like a slapstick comedy routine, but it doesn’t clatter to the concrete nor does it fall off the balcony altogether. Holding it in your hand, you light it easily to make sure it works, missing the hungry, bitter expression that comes over his face when you do. “How? I can’t reach you from here.” 

“We can meet in the middle.” 

You can’t. Even with him outstretching from his side of the balcony and you from your own, there is a good half a meter of distance between you both. You can’t help but remember the other man’s words—I just want one fucking cigarette without worrying about him taking a swan dive off the balcony. 

“Be careful,” you admonish when Johnny slips a little, his ribs digging into the iron-wrought railing. He doesn’t have good balance, you realize. Does losing an arm fuck something like that up? The answer you don’t know: it fucks up everything. Taking a deep breath, you glance over the rail and take note of how high you are from the ground. High enough for a healthy splat should you fall…

“Forget it,” he says morosely, his brows low. He is the picture of dejection, a kicked dog. “Doctors say ‘m not supposed to smoke anymore anyway.” 

“Don’t they say that to everyone? Just—hang on.” Tucking the lighter into your pocket, you throw one leg over the railing. 

“What are yeh—you-uuu fucking nutter,” he laughs as you test the stability of the railing. It doesn’t shift or creak at all under your weight. Heart in your throat, you lift your other leg over, feet lodged in the narrow space between the railing and the concrete floor. Gripping the rail with a tight fist, you let your weight lean into the space between your balconies, reaching into your pocket to remove the lighter and flick it to life. 

Johnny looks like he could laugh or cry or both, stretching out his shaking arm so you can light the cigarette and then quickly bringing it to his mouth to suck it to life. 

“Yer crazy,” he says breathlessly, words tinted with smoke as he watches you scramble back over the railing and to safety. 

The sliding doors open. For a moment, you mistake the sound for being closer than it is—for being your boyfriend finally noticing how long you’ve been gone and coming to find you. He’s going to find you out here with Johnny and the same arguments will be born all over again—arguments about your disloyalty.

But it’s Johnny’s doors which slide open. The taller man comes out, the circles under his eyes standing out darkly  against his pale skin in the late afternoon light. At the sight of Johnny, an expression of raw, poignant relief comes over his face. 

Johnny drops the cigarette over the ledge of the balcony, face sheepish. 

“Was just meeting our bonnie neighbor,” says Johnny, slipping his arm around the other man’s waist. If there was any doubt left of what they were to each other, it disappears: seeing them together, you can see the magnetism that draws them together. They act like plants which turn toward the sunlight, except they are the sunlight. The bitterness inside you rises up in the back of your throat. “Grateful to be doing it without a car in between us. This is Simon.” 

“Nice to meet you,” says Simon. 

“You too,” you offer, like perfect strangers. 

You don’t find the lighter still in the pocket of your pants until later, when it is past midnight as you are collecting your clothes from the floor, aching between your legs and raw-eyed from crying. You flick the sparkwheel, watching the flame come alive. Glancing behind you, you make sure your boyfriend is fast asleep before creeping to your dresser drawers, opening the one with your socks, and shoving the lighter towards the back as far as you can. 

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

[regressionschool]

Unfair

Based on an idea from @diapereddoe

You’re sitting in the playpen, surrounded by your toys, when you hear the doorbell ring. Your ears perk up, and your heart sinks a little. You know who it is. It’s her. The woman who Daddy always has grown-up fun with. You don’t like her; she always teases you and makes you feel even more little.

Daddy opens the door, and you hear her voice, sweet and playful, but it grates on your nerves. This time, there’s another voice too, a man’s voice. You peek over the edge of your playpen and see him. He’s around your age, but he’s dressed like a toddler, just like you.

“Hello, little one,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension. “I brought a friend for you to play with.”

Daddy leads them into the living room, and you shrink back, clutching your favorite stuffed animal. The man smiles at you, a mix of nervousness and excitement in his eyes. He’s wearing pull-ups, you notice, unlike your thick, soggy diaper.

“This is Tommy,” Daddy says, ruffling the man’s hair. “Be nice and play together while we go upstairs, okay?”

You nod, not that you have much choice. Daddy and the woman head upstairs, leaving you and Tommy alone in the playpen.

Tommy crawls over to you, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Hi, I’m Tommy,” he says, a shy smile on his face. “What’s your name?”

You mumble your name, not meeting his gaze. He seems nice enough, but you can’t help feeling a bit jealous. Why does he get to wear pull-ups while you’re stuck in a wet diaper?

Tommy starts playing with the blocks, stacking them up and knocking them down. You watch him for a while before joining in.

Tommy seems to have fun with the blocks, and his laughter is infectious. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself smiling a bit. Maybe having a new playmate isn’t so bad after all. You both build a tower together, and when it topples over, you giggle uncontrollably.

As you’re engrossed in your play, you suddenly feel Tommy’s hand on your back. He’s pulling back the waistband of your diaper. You turn your head in confusion, but before you can say anything, you feel warmth spreading through your diaper. Tommy is peeing right into it.

You gasp in shock and disbelief. “Tommy! What are you doing?” you exclaim, your face turning red with embarrassment and anger.

Tommy finishes, letting go of your diaper and giving you an innocent look. “I’m sorry,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “My Mommy is too busy with your Daddy to take me to the potty. She told me to just go in my pull-up, but I didn’t want to get it wet.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Your diaper, already soggy, is now even heavier and more uncomfortable. You glance upstairs, knowing that Daddy and Tommy’s mommy are too preoccupied to care about what just happened.

Tommy then looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know," he begins, lowering his voice as if sharing a big secret, "my mommy unlocked my peepee today. She says I can have cummies as long as I do it in the playpen."

You blink at him in disbelief. "What? Really?" You can't help the pang of jealousy that surges through you. Daddy never lets you have cummies, no matter how much you beg or plead. He always says it's because you're too little and still in your squishy Pampers, but Tommy is a big boy, still in pull-ups. You can’t help but feel extra babyish, realizing you are jealous of someone in pull-ups.

Tommy moves closer, his hand pressing against your soggy diaper. You try to pull away, but he’s already humping against your wet padding, his movements quick and desperate. In what seems like just a few seconds, Tommy lets out a soft moan and shudders, a look of satisfaction on his face as he cums into his pull-ups.

A few moments later, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You glance up, your cheeks flushed with humiliation. Daddy and Tommy's mommy appear in the doorway, their faces flushed and satisfied. They don’t notice your discomfort right away, too engrossed in each other.

Tommy's mommy claps her hands, a wide smile on her face. “Well, it looks like you two had a fun time playing together! Didn’t you, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, looking proud of himself. “Yes, Mommy! We played with the blocks, and it was super fun!”

Daddy looks down at you, his eyes softening with affection. “And how about you, little one? Did you have fun with your new friend?”

You try to muster a smile, but the heaviness of your soggy diaper and the shame of what just happened weigh you down. “Yes, Daddy,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

Tommy's mommy walks over and ruffles Tommy’s hair. “Good boy, Tommy. You didn’t have any accidents, did you?”

Tommy shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No, Mommy. I didn’t wet my pull-up at all!”

You feel your heart sink even further. Everyone seems so happy, and you’re left feeling more little and humiliated than ever. Daddy bends down and checks your diaper, his brow furrowing when he feels how soaked it is.

“Oh, my poor baby,” he coos, lifting you out of the playpen and carrying you over to the changing table. “Looks like someone needs a change.”

As Daddy changes your diaper, you can’t help but glance over at Tommy, who’s now playing with his mommy. You feel a pang of jealousy and frustration. Everyone else got to have cummies, but you’re still stuck in your soggy Pampers, treated like the littlest of littles.

Daddy finishes changing you and lifts you up, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead. “There you go, all fresh and clean. Now, why don’t you go play with Tommy some more?”

You nod, feeling a bit better but still longing for the grown-up pleasures that everyone else seems to enjoy. You crawl back into the playpen, trying to push away the feelings of jealousy and focus on the only distraction available to you, the toys right in front of you.

#ab/dl diaper #diaper stories #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #wetting diaper #diaper bulge

[luvsturn1]

7 minutes in heaven

hey y'all.. so this is not the story i was planning on posting. but i wanna post before i go on my vacation. so here it is!! i'll try and post the longgg one soon but i don't wanna finish it rn bc it's at like 15k words so i have no idea weather to finish it or not🙂

warnings: smut! semi public(at a party), underage drinking, cussing (i think that's all)

pairing: matt x fem!reader

word count: 2,150

_________________________________________

You and your sister Madi filipowicz have a lot of similarities, but you guys have more different interests then same, like for example. She loves partying, you don’t. You love spending time alone, she loves hanging out with friends. She’s a morning person and you’re not. But dispute your differences you love her with all your heart and would to anything for her…well maybe not everything.

“ please y/n I don’t wanna go to this party alone, and plus you never get out of the house. So please for the love of god come to the party!!” Your sister says flopping on your bed and turning to you.

“ I don’t want to go out tonight, I went with you last time and I did not enjoy it one bit. Plus aren’t your friends going to come with you anyway so what’s the big deal if I don’t go this one time”

“ because you always say “ I’ll go next time” but you never do, your going to rot away in your bed if you stay cooped up in the house all the time” Madi says sitting up to look at you with her puppy dog eyes that she does all the time and it drives you crazy because she knows that you will give in and say yes to whatever her request is.

“ what!! I don’t say that all the time and for your information, not like it’s any of your business but I’m going out next week to go to a birthday party for one of my friends from work.” You say acting like her joke about you “rotting away in your bed” hurt your feelings. “ plus even if I did want to go I don’t have a dress to wear” you say as you lay back to lean on the head of your bed.

“ pleasee I promise to make it up to you. It will be fun nicks going to be there, your friends with him right?”

“ yea me and Nick are friends I guess, but I always either get lost or left behind at all the parties that I go to with you. It’s not fun going to a party and you only know your sister and her friends.” You say looking at her with a straight face.

Your sister doesn’t say anything, but just leaves your room to go to her room. About 15 minutes pass and she comes back with a dress that you are convinced people would wear at a strip club. “ I am not wearing whatever that is, it’s not even going to cover my ass” you say getting up to go to your closet to grab a pair of sweats and a crop top.

“ no. There is absolutely no way I am letting you wear that to a party. Dress up and it’s fine I’ve worn this before and it covers enough of your ass. So put those away and take this dress and get ready cause we are leaving at 8:30” Madi says walking out of your room to get herself ready.

It was now 8:15 and your sister had been at you for the last 30 minutes to hurry up. You were almost ready you just had to finish putting your dress on. You put the dress on and you realized that your sister had lied to you. It in fact did not cover your ass at all.

“ MADI!! IM GOING TO KILL YOU.” You say running down your stairs to find her friends at the door. It was nick Matt and Chris the triplets. You have seen them before and you really liked Nick probably caused he is gay and you don’t like to hangout with guys. Chris also wasn’t a problem it was Matt Sturniolo. You didn’t like hate hate him just when you were with him he just made you uncomfortable. He always stared at you like he was trying to undress you with his eyes.

“ come on it’s not that bad you look good” Nick says coming up to hug you. You don’t say anything cause you know you look good you just don’t like dressing up. ~Time skip~

When you all got there madi and Nick practically jumped out of the car that was still not fully parked. Chris soon followed after them leaving you with Matt.

“ you look good tonight” Matt says and you can tell he’s smerking without even looking back at him. “save me at least one dance princess” he says as he walks past you leaving you at the front door before you could say yes or no.

The house was nice, it was packed with people and you already didn’t enjoy it. But you brushed off the feeling and made your way to the kitchen where Nick and your sister were downing shots.

“ jeez save some for me” you say moving next to madi to take 3 shots of vodka. “ dose your brother always flirt with girls” you say looking at Nick while pointing at his brother Chris who currently has at least 10 girls by him.

“ um yea he does this when we go to parties all the time he says he finds it funny how every girl comes up to him when he’s at a party.” He says shrugging “ I have to pee hold my drink” Nick says to Madi as he walks down a hallway.

About 3 hours have passed and you, your sister and nick were all pretty drunk. You had found a room with couches and a ping pong table. You all were tired and wanted somewhere to chill so you decided to hang out in there until some people left.

“ yo we’ve been looking for you guys” Chris says as he walks in with Matt and two other people that you don’t care to know “ I’m bored can we play a game like truth or dare” Chris says sitting down across from you and of course Matt had to sit right next to you.

You all agree and Chris goes first and he had picked truth. Then nick who picked dare and had to ask a random guy for there number. Then you.

“ truth or dare y/n” Chris said hoping you would pick dare cause he was bored and wanted to “spice things up”

“ um I guess I’ll pick dare” you said and as soon as you said that you saw Chris’s eyes shoot open and practically scream “ I dare you to spend 7 minutes in heaven with Matt” and as soon and he said that you could feel Matt’s eyes on you watching you until you responded.

you didn’t say anything but “come on” as you got up and went to the closest room/closet. With matt soon following you after with a big smerk on his face.

You and Matt were now in a small room. It was difficult to see and before you could look at Matt. He moved closer to you and you could feel the warmth of him with how close he is. before you could say no or pull away you felt his lips on yours. The kiss was lustfull but sweet at the same time.

You soon kissed him back and it quickly turned into a heated make out. Matt had one of his hands on your ass and the other wrapped around your neck to keep you up against to wall. Matt pushed his hips up against yours so you could feel his growing member, your mouth fell open and you let out a moan. Matt took that opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. You and Matt fought for dominance, him eventually winning.

He broke off the kiss and started to kiss down your neck lightly biting your neck as he moved lower, still holding your neck in place. When he was about halfway down he stopped and looked up at you. “Can i ?” Matt asked pulling up your dress a little. “ y-yes” you said as he began to pull of your dress, you helping him get it off faster.

“ fuck your beautiful. I need to be inside you” Matt said as he kissed your stomach while standing up to take of his jeans. You were in shock with how big it looked through his boxers.

Matt placed his hands on the back of your thigh signaling you to jump. when you jumped he caught you and pushed you up against the wall and started to aggressively kiss you. He was exploring every inch of you making you go insane craving his touch even more.

“ hold on let’s go somewhere else so we aren’t bothered” Matt says putting you down.

You both get dressed and fix your hair as much as you could. Matt took your hand and took you out of the closet.

“ hey hey you both still have 3 minutes left go back in there” Chris says pointing to the closet door that you left open.

“ fuck off we are done playing. we’re going somewhere else for a little bit I’ll find you when we are done playing our own game” Matt says smirking as he walks past everyone leaving them all in shock.

“ don’t get her pregnant Mathew!!” Your sister says knowing what y’all were about to do

You find an empty room upstairs and Matt doesn’t waist any more time and pushes you up against the wall kissing your neck. He breaks off the kiss and takes his shirt and pants off leaving him in his boxers.

Once he finishes getting undressed he returns to kissing your neck. Biting and licking everywhere leaving marks. You love the way he made you feel it was addicting.

“ get undressed and get on the bed on all fours” he said as he stopped kissing you to let you get on the bed.

You got undressed now in nothing, getting on the bed. Getting on all fours you were patiently waiting for Matt and were about to turn around when you felt him behind you.

“ I’m going to fuck you so good you’re going to be begging for more” Matt said as he thrusted into you without any warning.

You let out a loud moan because of how big he was. Matt bent down still thrusting into you at a rapid speed, and began kissing your neck leaving sloppy wet marks all over you.

“ fuck Matt I don’t know how much longer I can last”

you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long as soon as he first pushed himself into you. He didn’t care one bit and kept going. Bringing his right hand up to your waist, and the other down to your clit. Rubbing fast circles bringing you closer to the edge.

Matt stopped thrusting and pulled out. Making you groan due to the lack of him. He flipped you over so you were now looking at him. Matt bent down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy leaving your lips covered in his saliva.

“ I wanna see your face when I make you cum sweetheart” Matt said as he separated to kiss. Lining himself up with your hole, and began thrusting at a faster pace then before.

You let out a loud pornographic moan. Matt was mesmerized by everything about you. Your eyes, the sounds you make when he’s ruining your insides, how good you look without even trying. He could go on forever.

“ fuck Matty can I cum pleasee” you said needing to release.

“ yes baby your being such a good girl for me” Matt said as he brought his hand up to rub your clit in circles bringing you even closer to the edge.

you felt your climax began and the knot in your stomach release causing you to let out yet another scream. That made Matt go crazy bringing him closer. His thrusts got sloppy as he released his load into you mixing your juices together.

“ fuck that was the best sex I’ve ever had” Matt said as he pulled out making both your juices leak out onto the bed.

“ I agree” you said as you sat up to get your clothes. You stood up almost immediately falling due to how sore your legs were. Matt caught you setting you back on the bed kissing you. He got dressed and cleaned up once he was done he helped you and cleaned you up and got you dressed. Helping you up to go downstairs.

When you got downstairs all eyes were on you and Matt.

“ jeez what did he do to you” Nick said when he saw that Matt was helping you stay upright.

“ Matthew your lucky your my friend or I would kill you right here” your sister said walking over to you and Matt.

“ whatever let’s leave I’m tired” you says flipping them off

“ yea I bet you are” Chris says laughing.

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