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arieslost · 24 days

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talk | op81

summary: oscar loves to talk your ear off.

word count: 1,276

masterlist — join my tag list here!

everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.

that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.

before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.

the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.

it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.

that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.

“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.

“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.

it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.

“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.

“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”

“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.

“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.

“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”

“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.

“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”

“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.

you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.

which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.

“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”

well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.

“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”

“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”

“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.

“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.

“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”

“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”

you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.

“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.

the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”

“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”

“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”

“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”

“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.

“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.

“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”

“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”

you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.

note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @lightsoutletsgo

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ferrstappen · 5 months

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could you be more obvious? l MV1

a/n: thissss is based on a request I got and ofc I added the Verstappen twins <3 this is messy I’m sorry but I’m on a writing mood

summary: you show up pregnant for the first race of 2024, just six months after Max won his 3rd WDC.

Max being crowned world champion for the third time was something that made your skin buzz with excitement, a knot form in your throat seeing everything he’s achieved and the pride and satisfaction of knowing that every single person on the team had his back, was definitely one of the best sights.

But for Luca and Mila Verstappen, their papa being champion again time wasn’t exactly a big deal… they knew it was important because there were lots of fireworks and special tshirts, but they were born watching Max a champion, they only knew him as such.

what, like it’s a big deal?

They didn’t say it, but you knew that’s what was on their mind.

That was the reason why both Max and you decided to not bring the twins to Qatar, especially with the high temperatures and Luca’s history of getting sick during Grand Prix weekends, they were more than happy to stay with auntie Vic while you got ready to celebrate your husband.

And God, did you celebrate him.

Without the twins, the gin and tonics kept coming, the sloppy make out session on the VIP area of the club as if you were teenagers again, his front pressed against your back as he tried to impress you with his best moves, only to earn a couple of drunken giggles and peck on the lips.

Things were starting to quiet down, lots of people had already left to their hotel room, but you and Max were on a world of your own, with you sitting on top of him, but the moment you started feeling his lips ghosting against your neck, his hands moving from your waist to squeeze your hip.

and you knew it was time to go.

Bahrain, 2024

Max didn’t remember being so excited for race day. Yes, he was anxious for the new season, but the highlight of his day was seeing you getting ready, a loose blouse and white jeans accentuating the noticeable belly of six months of pregnancy, which was a complete surprise to everyone.

You entered the paddock through the main entrance, with photographers everywhere and Kym Ilman greeting your family, because the scene was worth more than a couple thousand likes on Instagram: you were holding Mila’s hand who in return was holding Luca’s, while Max walked with his arm protectively around your belly.

The twins weren’t exactly thrilled about the idea of having a baby brother or sister, a fact they made clear by asking every day if there was any chance to stop the baby from coming home eventually, telling you and Max that they were more than okay having the cats. Sadly, they were the only ones

“No! No! No! Is that why you went MIA on social media? Oh my God look at this bump! Congratulations you two,” Lily let go of Alex’s hand to give you a tight hug as Alex congratulated Max with a couple of pats on the back.

The scene repeated itself with most drivers on the grid, who didn’t ask how far along you were, but were able to deduce the situation. Until…

“How far along are you?” Charles asked you as he held Luca on his arms, letting him mess with his hair.

You blushed and Max’s chest puffed as if he has been waiting for the question. “I’m a couple of days away from the six months mark,”

Charles looked as if he was doing a very specific and difficult math problem as his girlfriend, Alexandra, stares at him with a faint blush on her cheeks, probably since she has always been more reserved around you because she was younger, but she was impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to catch on the situation.

“This is a 2023 season baby?” Charles asked.

“Looks like it,” Max answered with a smug smile on his face, but in reality it was an excited grin which reached his blue eyes.

“No…” Charles jaw dropped and had to put Luca on the floor.

“No what?” Max counter asked, even if he knew the answer. This time he started drawing mindless shapes on the clothes over your swollen stomach.

“Max… is this your championship child?” Charles whispered, shocked.

“What can I say? Winning on and off the track!”

And Charles almost passed out as both you and Max laughed, beaming while interlacing your fingers over your belly, knowing cameras wouldn’t catch you there.

user1: Max knocked y/n up the night of the third championship change my mind

user2: Max Verstappen pulled a k-mag and I respect that

user3: do we know the birthday of the verstappen twins? Asking for a friend

user4: y/n and max will have a full kindergarten if they have a kid every time he wins the championship💀

user5: are we really surprised after those videos leaked of max squeezing her ass while they were celebrating the 3rd wdc

user6: if the maths are mathing this baby will be born around the Monaco gp. GODS PLAN

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x you #dad!max verstappen #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #max verstappen fluff

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wandasfifthwife · 19 days

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finding you ₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺

— wandanat x fem/afab!reader

༺ tw || discussions of sexual acts/kinks but nothing (yet), reader deals with stress/anxiety, dom/sub dynamic/relationship, dom natasha/wanda w/ sub reader, reader’s personality is described to be shy/anxious/introverted, not proofread

༺ a/n || I’ve never personally been in a dom/sub relationship, so if I get things wrong that’s why! If you’re getting into one— don’t use this as a guide/reference 😭

— masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ 3.2k words₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part —

The city was truly a different world at night just with the way everything seems to take a breath of life. It was cooler, a breeze making its way through the buildings to cause goosebumps on any person walking by. It was cold enough that your friend had thought to try and hurdle you under their jacket, something you forgot to bring.

They didn’t seem to mind, pulling you under the warm blanket of a coat and rushing the two of you towards your apartment. You had just finished dinner—using it as a way to bond and meet up since work has separated you both for too long—and now we’re heading back to your apartment.

“You’re back,” one of your roommates speaks up from their location on the couch, “how was dinner?”

“Great, but I was freezing. You were right about bringing a jacket tonight, I really should’ve.”

“The winds tunnel through these buildings, it’s always good to pack a jacket.”

“Yes well thank you. Is it alright if my friend stays over?”

Your roommates waves a hand, dismissing her claim and focusing back on the tv show. The sounds of whatever bachelor show was playing quiets once you’ve shut your door behind you.

Your friend pins you with a look as she lays down flat into your bed, “what’s the deal with that person from work?”

“It’s really nothing, I think some people are just going through a rough time.”

“Okay well whatever—babe, it’s still not okay.”

There’s a creak in your bed once you’ve decided to join her, the old thing hanging on since you’ve not been able to afford a new one.

“Yeah sure they’ve made some rude comments, but they weren’t that bad.”

“Not to mention they also stole your idea and they’ve been aggressive towards you for no reason—tell them that they’re being a bitch.”

The emotions liked to confrontation are like sinking to the bottom of a body of water, suffocating. Your friend lies beside you, waiting, but her raised eyebrows give away her impatience, waiting to argue with you over your hesitation. A sigh makes it way out, a vocalization of how you’re feeling on the inside, “I really don’t know if I need to.”

“It’s less of a have to and more of a should do. Just be a bitch back,” she makes a poor attempt at reeling in her aggression after your expression of disgust, “or at least talk to someone higher up.”

“I’ll maybe talk to someone later—“ you put a hand up to silence her oncoming attack “—and that’s it. I appreciate you caring.”

“I just want you to be able to stand up for yourself.”

“I know, and I love you for that, but I’m done with stressful topics. I’d like to just talk about exciting things.”

She deadpans, “but this fun.”

A laugh filled amusement fills the room, your foot coming to shove her. There’s a pause after, ears turning into the smaller and more minute sounds. Dramatic stage music, though silenced by your door, it’s loud enough to still make an entrance in your room along with the sirens outside. The sheets rustle as your friend moves onto her side, body facing towards you. It was a gentle breeze until she began to fight off a grin, the thoughts in her mind almost driving a crazed expression in her face.

“Have you thought anymore about what I said?”

“You talk a lot, which of those many conversations are you mentioning?”

“The stress-relieving one.”

The words are quick to bring a similar crazed expression on your own face, one similar to your friend’s but more terrified.

“No.”

“Aw come on. I do it and it’s worked wonders, I still know—“

“I’ve heard enough for one night, you’re too public with it—how’re you not embarrassed?”

She rolls, resting her head on you, “you’re shy, I’m not. I don’t care what others say.”

“You’re weird.”

Her shoulders upturned in a shrugging motion, the vibration from her low hum ticking your stomach. The floor creeks again when she slings her feet off the mattress to find something to eat, leaving you alone for a minute. It seemed to stretch forever due to waiting every second to ask her a burning question. It was nearly on fire when she finally came back, the words tumbling from you.

“Who’re the people?”

It was, technically, four words that set off an hour and a half conversation.

Your friend’s persistently paid off after about two months of bringing it up. It started out as a question to check up, formed into a joke/tease, and ended up as a proposal. You’ve eventually thawed, only tonight feeling comfortable enough to ask, allowing yourself to be curious. It was curiosity, but you strayed far away from any sexual conversations, feeling that topic would actually throw you over the edge.

You pick at your nails, a nervous habit to ease the discomfort of the vulnerable conversation, “what do you do?”

“You mean my role? It’s what I said before, I’m a dominant in our relationship.”

“How often do you do it?”

“Sex?”

Her hand swats at your shoulder, enabling your fidgeting to become actions of aggression. You shove back, “fuck off.”

“Anyways, it depends on each relationship, but for us we fall into it most nights. Usually they come home and I can pick up the signs. I came to understand their body language about a month after us dating that they’re feeling a specific way.”

“Too intimate.”

“Oh yeah, it’s intimate and entirely built on trust. It’s why I love it so much,” your friend reached a hand over, stretching to reach until her fingers wrap around her phone, “I’ll send you their number. It’s entirely up to you from this point on. But genuinely though, if anything I say is making you uncomfortable let me know. I truly have just wanted to help.”

It wasn’t brought up again. An episode of some old show capturing the both of your attention the rest of the night, her scratchy laugh engraved in your mind from how often she found the dialogue hilarious. A small red mark forming from when she got too excited, jumping on the bed and bouncing your body to move and hit a dull item nearby. Thankfully you don’t have neighbors that occupy the room below you.

It was a sad goodbye when you both had the knowledge of how busy your schedules were. You had a form of contact, your phone, but you didn’t always have access to her in person. The lights in the apartment were shut off, the dark almost navy hue covers the room. You clicked your phone on, squinting from the onset of light before checking your recent text from her, “their” contact information sitting open on your phone for the night.

It turned out to be a weak battle, with the conflict being between man vs man. You had daily arguments with yourself, both sides—heart and mind—fighting with valid reasons. You don’t know if they’d be a weirdo overtime. They could not win your trust, or understand you, step over you like your coworker at work has been.

It could be a waste of time to be so intimate with someone and have the time come to a close, so you make a new space in your contacts for their number. You had a simple message typed out, introducing yourself and how you got their number, and then prompt turned your phone off.

The waiting period consumed you.

Brushing your teeth, you’d flip your phone to find that the notification was another spam email from a store you visited two years ago, reminding you to unsubscribe yet again. At work, you’d even pulled your phone from where it rested under your thigh to check whenever it buzzed. It was impossible to deny when the evidence was written all over your face, but you liked to believe you didn’t care.

The earth spun a whole two times and you’d still gotten no response. You checked your phone less, initial nerves transforming right into worry. Were you bothering them?

“Stop fretting,” your friend told you over the phone and then proceeding to let out a laugh at your embarrassed rant, all about how you regret reaching out.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have hooked you up if I thought they weren’t interested. It’s barely been two days.”

“You’re right,” your phone sat across from you, giving you the perfect view to stare at her personalized contact photo,

“Give it time.”

You had another speech about to spill about how you’re not going to obsessively check anymore, but that buzzed sound you’ve grown to respond to rapped against your wooden table.

Your lungs contract, closing when a contact with no profile photo and definitely no name appears. Your friend’s voice becoming background noise as your focus snaps to the unopened message, watching it as it slides away.

“Okay well I have to sleep. Love you, stop freaking out.”

The call ends abruptly, a habit of hers you’re usually frustrated with but now you’re grateful. Nerves at a new high for the day when a second message comes in. Feet patter on the hound, carrying you to climb into your room.

Realizing they’ve messaged you back is both an energy drainer and giver. Lights bright on your face while you’re unlocking your phone, clicking on the chat button. Your mind makes up the worst scenarios in hopes to keep your expectations low, but as your eyes sweep across the text a smile appeared on your face.

Long text summarized, they’d love to meet you in person and brief information was shared. They’d agreed to meet halfway at a coffee shop in Manhattan named, “coffee project nyc.”

The closest subway station was swarmed with a dozen people, the time on your phone being the explanation behind why others were brushing against you on the train. They contained to when after the train had arrived, pulling you along with them like a terrible tide.

Your phone map is a virtue, showing you the route until the cafe is in sight just across the street. It was across the street but your feet were stuck to the side you were on. Seconds passed like milliseconds, speeding up like your breathing.

The door had a little bell, one that rang when you walk through and sit down at the closest open seat to you. Eyes set on your phone screen like you were doing something meaningful by scrolling through already opened texts.

A new text appeared, a statement, telling you that they’d arrive. It wasn’t the intention, but you realized you hadn’t told them you had also arrived. The bell rung as it did for you, signaling to you and the others in the building that another had entered.

Her tone was clear when she spoke to you, leaning so she can look at your eyes. An air of calm around her when she introduced herself, saying how nice it was to meet in person.

“Is there anything you’d like from here? Natasha’s in line to get herself something.”

“Oh no,” you internally wince at how high your tone is pitched, “I’ll just pay for my own later!”

“It’s on us if you’d like any,” she repeats the offer with a smile. The scent from all the coffee beans and tea leaves is too addicting, filling your senses and pulling at the right heart strings to make you weak.

“If it’s okay could I maybe get a tea?”

“That’s perfectly fine. Natasha hasn’t ordered you yet, you can go tell her your order,” she says, words emphasized by her finger directing you to find the women fifth in line. An apology comes out as a whisper, feeling bad when you have to cut between two people holding a conversation.

“Hi,” you breathe, feeling nervous about being pushed to her warm body by those in line and others trying to move about.

“Breathe,” she says, pausing your sentence until she’s seen you visibly take a breath.

“Sorry,” you say, the unwarranted apology causing her eyebrows to furrow.

“Why sorry? You don’t have any reason to be.”

You say it again but she makes no pays if no mind, a gentle hand coming to rest under your forearm.

“Would you like something?“

The words you had spoken to wanda are repeated, asking about ordering a tea with another apology following right after. You fear she’s upset, but every movement she makes is kind, soft.

“You don’t have to apologize. Go wait with Wanda, I’ll bring it over once it’s made, okay?”

You thank her what feels like ten times, hoping each one is more sincere than the other before stepping away, mindful of the kicked up carpet. Wanda’s smiling at you, reaching over to push your chair out.

“Did you get a tea?”

“I did, thank you two—seriously—I appreciate this.”

Her response comes out as a hum, the words, ‘of course,’ mended together through the one sound, “how was your ride over? You mentioned the trip only being a few minutes, correct?”

“Usually yes.”

“Have you been here before then?”

“Not really, I don’t go out often. If I did I’d ruin my budget plan.”

The smell of the store is amplified once the cup is placed in front of you, the gentle steam floating off the top smelling exactly like the aroma in the small room. The seat to the right of you is pulled out, taken by Natasha a second later. Hers smells of coffee, a darker roast you’re familiar with from one of your roommates making it in the morning.

She picks through the sugars on the table, ignoring Wanda’s advice to leave the sweetness alone; Wanda mentions again how it impairs her dreams, giving her terrible nightmares instead. Natasha acknowledges what she says and still pours two in, her defense being the brand labeling itself as a ‘natural sugar’ as opposed to some other popular companies.

You turn to Wanda, “do you like to drink coffee or tea?”

“I do,” she says, fingers brushing under yours to stabilize the tilting hold you had on the cup, “every now and then I’ll get a tea.”

She quirks a quick smile, the mood fading fast once she’s turned her attention to Natasha and how bright the coffee has become. Natasha pulls the cup away from her extending grasp, bringing the cup to her lips with a grin.

“Do you work?”

“I do! I work in marketing at a real estate company, basically meaning I create pamphlets and design their websites. Do either of you have a job?”

Natasha keeps the mug in her hands, not letting go despite the heat, “we do. I work as a mechanical engineering, Wanda’s does corporate finances.”

You later worry about how your emotions are written on your sleeve seeing how they noticed the slightest change in your body language. Wanda lets her hand drift off of yours seeing as you’re now paying attention to how you’re holding it, “what do you do?”

“Nothing crazy like that. I sell art pieces, occasionally teach somewhere like an art class or work as a substitute for a school if needed.”

“Did you go to school for art?”

“I did, somehow passed to with how strict a few teachers were.”

They then ask to see a piece you’ve done, listening to every word you’re saying on every detail of each individual piece. You show ones you’ve sold, ones you’ve given as gifts to friends/family members, and some you’ve painted for yourself. You ease into the moment with every passing minute, tense muscles and fidgeting movements calming.

The room is small, but busy. A multitude of conversations being held in one place, all forming and coming together like the infamous background ambiance.

A watch on Wanda’s wrist catches light when she flicks her sleeve down to check the time, a deep sigh coming from her when she realizes it’s past 9:30PM, “it’s getting late.”

Natasha hums, grabbing your cups and stacking them to take to the dish bins nearby. You stand when she does, grabbing your coat to toss over your shoulders.

“We can walk you home if you’d like, it is quite dark out.”

You take a glance as well, the scarcity of light on the street enough for you to accept her help. The sidewalks are small, pushing you to walk so close to them you’ve stepped on Natasha’s shoes two times already. They keep close to you, sitting beside you in the subway ride. You’ve told them that you’re grateful they’ve offered to walk you back, but that you also feel bad for taking up their time. They keep reassuring you, every time gentle, if not gentler than the last.

The street becomes familiar again, the lights from your balcony coming into view. The little store building with the apartment complex above it, your little home. It’s never fully quiet, but at this minute in the hour it almost feels like it’s just the three of you. An occasional car, bike, and stranger may walk by, but you barely notice.

“Would you like to see my apartment?”

“I wouldn’t mind a tour,” wanda says, her words making you smile and excitedly being to unlock the door. It’s late enough that either your roommates are out or asleep, leaving you and them to walk into a silent space. It’s entirely too quick tour; only showing them your balcony, bedroom, living room, and kitchen while trying to be quiet for the one roommate trying to sleep.

Wanda calls your name, finding you in your bedroom after hearing where your voice came from and following it. Your room is reflectively dark, only light source coming from the dim lamp by your bed. The one you’ve been meaning to repair.

“How’re you feeling?”

“I’m good, a bit tired.”

“I mean about this.”

Your lips fall slightly ajar, taken a bit off guard. She’s not rushing you at all, leaning against your vanity. She’s even gone far enough to not make you even more nervous by moving her gaze anywhere but you.

“I—“ you freeze momentarily when you realize Natasha’s come to stand in your doorway, “I’d like to if that’s okay with you.”

“We’d love to. Later tonight I can send you some papers for you to look over whenever you feel ready.”

You nod, thanking them with a smile. They bid you goodnight, both mumbling sweet words about the night. They both pull you into them, wrapping their arms around you in a gentle embrace before pulling back. You’re inside with heating AC and yet when they pulled back you felt colder.

Once the doors shut, the rooms entirely too quiet, the silence emphasizing the emptiness of their disappearance. They already made an impression, their good nights making you feel twice elated. It shows in your night routine, a smile etched on your face from the night. How beautiful they are, how someone they wished to also see you again, how they were mindful and intentional.

You had gotten dressed, wrapped up in your sheets with your phone settled between you, scrolling through the sweet text they sent after and the documents. The first were fine, but the last few brought nerves to the surface. Explicit acts and suggestive themes filled the page, maybe half you’ve never heard of. They were reassuring though, stating that you’d all run through them together once finished. During the whole process they were helping to answer any questions or concerns you had until you were ready to print and fill it out. After a week and a half you make your relationship official.

— masterlist ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ taglist below₊✩°｡⋆˚ ⁺ next part —

@simpforlizzie @maggieromanov @angelbeingatitspurest @cerberus-spectre @olicity-boo @huggingkoalas @wandasbunnyy @babykingslayer @marigoldenblooms @godhatesgoodgirls @evmaximoff @tobiaslut @lzzysfreak @caporaI-nino @mommysfavouritegirl

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ms-fade · 7 months

Text

Day 4 Of Kinktober:

CumShots + Picture taking.

Izuku Midoriya & katsuki Bakugo x Reader

I just had this is my head all day and I swear- I’m so horny. I just want my face covered.

Warnings: Cumshots, MMXF, two dudes one girl, being tied up, being a cumsl*t, hair pulling.

The locker rooms had been empty for a while and you had been dragged into the room by your boyfriends. It was a good day of you teasing them and giving them attitude hoping you’d get them rilled up. Tho, you didn’t expect it to be a few minutes before a mission. You had been on your knees with handcuffs bakugou keeps on his hero outfit for ten minutes.

“Don’t be so rough,” izuku whined as he stroked his pretty cock beside you. “Fuck off, it’s what she deserves.” Bakugo had a strong grip on your hair and pulled you up to look at both cocks and wait like a good girl. Izuku was slower but harder with his movements and made sure to squeeze his tip every chance he got. Bakugo on the other was fast and rough and made sure to be extremely forceful.

You had to sit there and watch them get off without being able to touch them or even touch yourself. You hated it. “Please,” you whimpered with tears in your eyes, “Let me suck it, please.” You looked up at Bakugo then at izuku to make him fold since he was the easiest. Bakugo laughed at your begging.

“Just a desperate little bitch. Can you believe it nerd? Acting up all day and thinks she deserves to suck us off.” You watched the pre leak out of his tip and your mouth watered at the sight. Rolling your body to try and get some friction from your thighs but nothing worked.

“Such a bad girl,” Izuku spoke and reached down to cup your cheek, giving you a soft feeling aloud with the pulling pain of bakugo. “You knew you’d get punished so don’t be sad about your actions.” His thumb found its way into your mouth and you desperately welcomed it and started to suck.

As you licked around his thump you started to picture one of their cocks hitting the back of your throat and started to bobble your head. Bakugo watched and he got pissed so he slapped Izuku’s hand away from you. “Don’t fucking deserve it, can’t have you getting the idea you’re sucking our cocks.” Izuku pulled his hand back and to his side.

You scream when you hair was pulled and moved your face farther, his grip making it harder to keep your eye open. “Open your mouth.” You did as told and opened wide with your tongue hanging out just like they liked it. The blond steps closer and inches his cock so close to your lips, izuku making sure to do the same.

“Cum, Cum. Paint me, I’ll be good.” Pleaded up at them you felt your own pussy clinch with excitement. Standing up slight you get closer and make sure to close your eyes. “Look at her, Kacchan.” He picked up his own pace to get him closer. “Wants to be painted with our cum, now that’s a good girl.”

“A good girls action, doesn’t make her one.” Fiddling with your hands behind your back, you tried to stay still. “Sorry, I’ll be better.” He wanted to answer but his cock was almost there, his balls clinching.

“I’m going it cum-” you got yourself ready to catch as much in your mouth, “That’s a good girl.” Izuku spoke and his eyes closed. A few seconds of groans and panting their white warm cum splatter along your face. Both cum mixed on your tongue, they kept pumping until it was dry and dripping down your body.

When it was all done you closed your mouth and swallowed it all and tried it lick around your lips for extra. The boys catches their breath and leaned on one another then turn to kiss each others lips. While still kissing his boyfriend, Bakugo pulled out his phone. Pulling away he put the phone right in your face and made sure to keep it tilted down to see your whole body as well.

“Smile for the camera baby.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #deku x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #izuku midoriya x reader smut #izuku midoriya smut #izuku midoriya x reader #Bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader smut #smut #izuku smut #deku smut #bakudeku x reader #bakudeku smut #bakudeku x reader smut

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d3adp00ls · 6 months

Note

Heyia lovely! Noticed you were taking or rather looking for requests to do with Vanessa from FNAF?

If there still open I was wondering if you were able to a fluffy one, maybe when the reader is related to Mike somehow and she knows he’s struggling with a job so it’s actually her that suggest to Mike to work as a night guard with her, and maybe Mike is overprotective of the reader so when Vanessa turns up he’s like ‘stay away from her’, but their actually a couple, and when Mike just finds out he’s shocked and if your comfortable with it maybe Vanessa giving the reader a kiss or a kiss on the cheek and he like ‘so I’ll see you for date night?’

Overprotective?

Vanessa (fnaf movie) x reader

Summary: basically the request

Contents: fluff, angst (you gotta squint really hard tbh), established relationship, protective Mike, secret relationship

W/c: how about you count for me bbg 😉 (I’m actually so sorry this is so fucking long and idek why)

side note: The only thing I really changed is the fact that you aren't related to Mike and that you're just a childhood friend, I hope that’s okay and enjoy the totally amazing writing that I love so much!! Also, I’m pretty sure this does not fit totally well with the movie's timeline but it does kind of take place during it.

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You started working as a security guard at Freddy’s about three months ago. Although it wasn’t the ideal job and the pay sucked ass, it had its perks. For instance, you enjoyed watching Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica perform for you, and you also found it amusing to watch Foxy try to beat your high score on one of the old arcade games. It was pretty funny to see him struggle with the machines using only one hand, but it was less funny when he got mad and hit the machine with his hook. However, the best thing about the job was Vanessa Shelly, the officer who came every other night. You met her on your third day working at Freddy’s when she came to introduce herself to you, and you both immediately clicked. Now, two months later, you’re together.

Recently, you’ve been feeling lonely at Freddy’s. Vanessa couldn’t visit you all the time due to her job, and as much as you love the animatronics, you can’t have real conversations with them. Half the time, you’re left in your own thoughts while waiting for your watch to read 6 a.m. Vanessa recently told you that they were trying to find another security guard to work at Freddy’s with you. You were excited about the idea until she told you that you both would only have one shift together. Nonetheless, you were still excited about the idea of not being alone every night on the weeks Vanessa couldn’t keep you company. You just wish they would find a person faster. You were becoming more and more impatient as the days passed. It got to the point where you even asked Vanessa if you could look for someone yourself, which you quickly realized was stupid because you didn’t even know anyone who could do night shifts. You had given up hope of having a coworker and accepted the fact that some weeks you would be stuck at the old restaurant alone. However, one of your nights off changed everything. You were babysitting for your best friend Mike Schmidt, who was apparently out trying to get a job because he beat up some kid’s father at his last one. You had been drawing in the living room on the floor with Abby when he came in holding and reading an orange paper. You furrowed your eyes as you stood up and walked to him. “What’s that?” Mike looked up at you as you nodded toward the paper. He looked back down at it before sighing and crumbling it up. “Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he said with a small huff before looking towards the kitchen and seeing a box of pizza with a half-eaten pie on the table. He looked back towards you with furrowed brows. “Did you order dinner?” he asked while walking towards the kitchen and picking up a slice, feeling that it was still warm.

“Nah, my girl….I mean uh… a friend of mine did,” you said with a shrug, clearing your throat when you realized you almost had a slip-up. It’s not like you didn’t trust Mike with knowing that you had a girlfriend. You knew you could trust him, seeing as you had come out to him when you both were 15, and he was more supportive than your own parents could ever be. However, it wasn’t about sexuality with Mike. It was his protectiveness over the one he loved. He has been going through a lot ever since Garret’s death, so you don’t blame him at all for becoming overprotective about you and Abby. But the fact that you don’t blame him doesn’t mean you won’t sometimes wish he would lay off on the protective big brother act. Sometimes it’s the only reason why you haven’t told him about Vanessa. You were scared of how he would react and that he wouldn’t approve. Mike looked at you with a raised brow, and your heart nearly sank at the thought of him hearing your slip-up. But then a smirk started to form on his lips, causing you to raise a brow before he started speaking. “Oh? I didn’t realize people actually liked you enough to consider you a friend.”

You sarcastically laughed at his words before punching him in the arm, causing him to laugh and move away from you with his arms raised in defense. “Very funny, Mike. Tons of people like me, alright?” you say with a roll of your eyes as you walk back to the living room where Abby is still finishing her drawing. “Anyways, how’d it go? Did you get the job?” You ask as you begin to pick up some of the crayons that Abby wasn’t using. You hear Mike groan, causing you to glance up at him. He’s sitting in a chair with a hand covering his face. “That bad, huh?” Mike shakes his head, moving his hand to tap against the arm of the chair. “I don’t even want to talk about it,” he says with another groan before leaning his head back to let out a huff. You hum in return as you finish picking up the rest of the crayons and placing them next to Abby’s drawings on a table with a smile before standing up fully and brushing your pants off. “Well, I should start heading out. I have work tomorrow, and I have to do a ton of other stuff before then, so I want to get some rest before all of that,” you begin walking around to grab your stuff as you speak. Mike seems to perk up at your words, and you notice it as you go to reach for your coat. The way he practically jumps out of his seat and looks at you almost stuns you with how fast he moves towards you. You notice Abby now looking at you both with a confused look, which you shrug at her before Mike stands right in front of you, causing you to take a step back. “Whoa, what’re-” “You have a job, right?” Mike says so quickly you won’t even think he’s speaking English. “Excuse me?” “You’ve got a job, right?” he says a little slower but still slightly fast. “Yeah? Did I not just say that?” “Are you hiring?” He asks, his face showing hope. You give a sad smile in return as you pull your coat on. “Yeah, we are…but you can’t do night shifts, remember?” Mike sighs, looking towards Abby, who is watching the interaction.

He looks at you returning the sad look.

“I don’t think I have much of a choice at this point.”

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You sat in the security office at Freddy’s, humming to yourself as you watched the security camera with a bored expression. It was Thursday, which meant you and Mike had a joint shift. This was the last day of the week for him and the first day of the week for you. You had arrived a little earlier than needed, so you continued to stare mindlessly at the cameras as you waited for him to arrive. Your eyes began to get heavy, and you were just about to dose off when you saw a car pull into the parking lot and park next to your car. You sat up, looking more closely, and saw Mike get out of the car. You smiled a little, but your smile dropped when you noticed him talking to someone. You tried to squint to get a closer look before the door opened, and Abby got out. “What the hell?” you mumbled under your breath before standing up and walking towards the entrance to meet them there.

“Y/n!” You smile when you hear Abby’s voice excitedly yell your name before she jumps into your arms and gives you a tight hug. “Hey, Ab’s!” you answer, hugging her back before putting her down. “What are you doing here?” you ask with an amused tone. When you look towards Mike, he’s already nervous, knowing you will be on his case about this later. “Mike lets me come sometimes!” she says happily, and you raise your eyebrow at her while looking back at Mike. “Sometimes? You’ve been here before?” Abby nods before running off towards the stage where Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are all standing, seeming to be happy that she’s there. You watch the interaction between the three robots and the little girl before sighing and looking back at Mike. “She’s been here before, Mike?” Your tone now changes from the one you used with Abby to one more serious. “I know what this looks like, but I swear I have a good explanation,” he says. You raise a brow at him as he continues to speak. “You usually babysit for Abby, but today we both had work, so I tried to get someone else, but I couldn’t find anyone to fill in for you.” “What about that girl who would sometimes watch Abby? Max?” you ask while looking back at Abby to see her and Foxy watching the other three perform. “She hasn’t been answering my calls,” Mike states, causing you to look back at him with a confused look. “Since when?” “Since last Thursday when you took the day off because you were sick.” You nod at his answer before letting out a sigh. “Okay…I guess it’s fine that she’s here. Just please keep an eye on her. The animatronics are cool and all, but they can be a little rough sometimes.” He hums and nods, and you smile at him before playfully hitting his arm. “Now, come on, let’s go watch the show.”

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It was 4 am, You and Abby were playing in the arcade with animatronics watched you both and Mike was god knows where.

Abby had just beaten your high score, much to Foxy’s dismay, and she was excitedly jumping around as you watched her while laughing before you got a glimpse of Mike speed walking towards the entrance causing you to furrow your brows but you just shrugged it off and look back at Abby who is now trying to convince foxy he can beat the high scores.

You were about to start a new game for him but then you heard Mike's voice paired with another familiar one causing you to furrow your brows and move away from the arcade game telling the group that you would be right back before you jogged towards the voices.

when you got to the entrance you saw Mike talking to someone at the door causing you to walk closer to get a look but when you stepped closer you were met with Vanessa walking in with a smile on her face.

“Hey y/n,” she says with a smile and you all but jump into her arm and hug her tightly while she laughs.

“Vanessa!” you exclaimed, surprised to see her. “It’s been forever!” She chuckled at your words and hugged you back before pulling away, leaving her hand on your waist. “We literally saw each other on Sunday,” she said as you pulled your arms from her. “Yeah…but it still feels like forever,” you mumbled as she laughed again, causing you to smile and playfully hit her on the arm. You were so caught up in the fact that Vanessa was here that you almost forgot Mike was there until he cleared his throat, causing both of you to look back at him. “I didn’t know you two knew each other,” he said, throwing a very obvious glare at Vanessa when her hand stayed at your waist, but she pulled away while clearing her throat, seeming to notice the tension between them suddenly. “Uh, yeah, I met her on her third day here,” she said, glancing at you with a shy smile, which you returned before looking back at Mike, who still hadn’t taken his glare off of Vanessa. “Anyway, I’m gonna go say hi to Abby,” Vanessa clears her throat , giving you one more smile before walking towards the group to escape the awkward tension. “You two seem close…” he stated dryly, finally taking his eyes off of her and landing them on you. You hummed while looking down at your shoes, not wanting to look him in the eyes if you decided to lie about the relationship. “She kept me company during my first few weeks here. She’s a very nice person,” you said, trying to diffuse the tension. Mike hummed and nodded his head, his gaze going back to Vanessa, who was now playing the arcade game. “I bet she is nice to you,” he said, his tone a little harsh, making you glance up at him with furrowed eyebrows, but he was still looking at Vanessa, making you clear your throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked him when he looked back at you. Mike shrugged before beginning to walk away from you and towards the others. “Nothing…forget it. Let’s just go.”

As you watch him walk away, you groan and cover your face with your hands. You slide them down your face and glance over at the group. Vanessa is already looking back at you with a playful smile and motions her head towards the hallway that leads to the security room. You furrow your brows and look away from her towards Mike, who is being distracted by Abby. She’s trying to get him to give Freddy a hug, but he keeps telling her no with what almost looks like a scared expression on his face. The interaction makes you chuckle and shake your head. You look back at Vanessa, who is still staring at you, waiting for you to make a move.

You can't help but break into a smile as you playfully roll your eyes and make your way towards the office. Vanessa announces that she needs to put her coat away and her footsteps quickly jog down the hallway. She grabs your arms and pulls you into the office.

Your gasp is cut short when she kisses you, leaving you momentarily stunned. But you quickly reciprocate, feeling her smile against your lips. She moves her hands to your waist and pushes you into the security chair, closing the door with her foot.

As you try to catch your breath, you look up at her and see her licking her lips. She straddles your legs and you instinctively hold onto her waist. She leans in to kiss your ear, causing you to tilt your head for better access.

"I don't think your little boyfriend approves of me," Vanessa whispers in your ear. You groan and push her back slightly to look at her.

"Don't call him that, he's like a brother to me," you say. Vanessa just smiles and kisses your lips again before moving to your neck.

"Well, your 'brother' definitely looked like he wanted to kill me," she teases. You hum in agreement, closing your eyes as she kisses a sensitive spot on your neck.

"Don't worry about him, he'll come around. He can be a bit overprotective at times," you assure her, gently lifting her head and brushing your thumb against her cheek.

"Have you told him about us yet?" she asks, and you meet her gaze before reluctantly shaking your head.

"I haven't found the right time," you sigh, and she nods in understanding.

"Well, you should figure that out soon," she says, getting up from your lap with a laugh and taking off her police jacket.

"But I don't want to," you whine, standing up and grabbing her arm to turn her back towards you. She smirks at you and shakes her head.

"Babe, I'm not his best friend, you are. You have to handle this on your own. But I'm sure it'll be fine. If he truly cares about you, he'll be happy for us, right?" she reasons, gazing into your eyes. With a heavy sigh, you nod in agreement. Vanessa's soft smile reassures you, and you lean into her touch as she cups your cheek.

"So, are we still on for our date night on Sunday?" you ask, and she leans in closer, her forehead resting against yours.

"Why wouldn't we be?" she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You can't help but look at her lips, and she notices, licking her own before leaning in to kiss you once more.

"We probably should get back to everyone," you mumble between kisses, but you don't make any move to leave her embrace. She hums in response, her lips still pressed against yours.

"We should, but I don't want to leave you," she murmurs, making you laugh softly. You meet her gaze again, and she licks her lips before capturing yours in another passionate kiss.

You were so deep into the kiss that you didnt hear the footsteps coming near the room nor did you hear when the door open.

“The fuck is going on?!”

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AHHH I FINALLY FINISHED THIS FOR MY GIRL 🤭😋 TOOK FOREVER BUT I THINK IT WAS WORTH IT!!

Anyways please reblog if you liked it 🙏🏾🙏🏾 and have a nice day/night/evening/wtv

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Tag list - 🌚 ion have one yet

#fnaf vanessa #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf #vanessa shelly #vanessa afton x reader #vanessa monroe #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #is it obvious that idk how to end these things 🌚#anon ask

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janaispunk · 2 months

Text

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

#fic: wildest dreams #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york smut #pedrostories #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dbf!dave york

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norrizzandpia · 7 months

Note

ooo i’m curious on what somno is! ive googled it and i’m interested… could you write a somno piece for lando please?

Somno is…… one of my fav things

Don’t Wake Up Yet (LN4)

Summary: When Lando gets home from a race weekend without his girlfriend, he just can’t wait.

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, dirtiest thing I’ve ever written, praise, soft dom lando, I NEED HIM SO BAD, lmk if its cringey I honestly can’t tell

Notes: this was conjured up after a very crazy moment of delusions on my part where i couldn’t get this idea out of my head and its very feral

Lando’s feet padded quickly across the floor as he came to his apartment door. His excitement to see his girlfriend was blinding, having not heard from her in a few days whilst they were both incredibly busy. It didn’t faze either of them. Their relationship was strong enough to withstand a period of no contact, however, that didn’t mean he didn’t yearn for her and the body that plagued his dreams at night. Lando’s keys were already in his hand, so when he reached the door, he was able to slide the key in and open it with ease quickly. His bags dropped in the foyer, although his feet continued moving. Finding his room, he opened the door quietly, knowing it was late and Y/n was most likely asleep. Sure enough, he found her lying in their bed with his pillow wrapped tightly in her arms, her shoulders peaking out from the duvet. He walked over, pulling back the blanket just a bit to kiss the skin of her neck. When his eyes traveled downward and he saw that no material hugged her torso, his eyebrows furrowed. Y/n was never the type to sleep naked, unless they had had sex that night and the two were too tired to put their clothes back on. Nevertheless, Lando’s curiosity got the better of him as he pulled the sheets up to glance down. What he found made the blood rush to his dick immediately.

Y/n, completely naked, as she snuggled into his pillow tightly as if she was wishing for the nights when he would take what he wanted.

This night, Lando thought, would be just like the others.

They had spoken about the kink briefly, so he wasn’t uncomfortable or worried when he drew the comforter back all the way to put the entire image of her bare on display just for him. He knew she was interested and open to this side of sex, something Lando was grateful for as he was reminded just how much he missed her. Nights of fucking his own hand would never be enough in comparison to her.

Thus, he kicked off his shoes, ridding himself of his sweatpants and hoodie before sliding into bed next to her. His boxers being the only piece of material left on his body, Lando’s cock strained tightly against them. He was suddenly impatient to get inside her, but, knew savoring the moment was the priority.

So, he decided waking her up to his head between her thighs seemed more enjoyable than wasting his pent up sexual anticipation on it.

His hand moved to wedge between her thighs as he lightly moved down the mattress, softly as to not wake her up. He was able to move her slightly, allowing her body to lay flat on the cushioned surface before pushing her legs apart and positioning his head right in front of one of his favorite body parts. He clocked the fact she was probably having a sex dream about him when he saw the wetness that riddled her folds and coated a portion of her thighs. He smiled triumphantly, happy she was missing him as much as he was missing her.

Urgent and worked up, Lando’s tongue reached out and licked a small line up her sex. When he heard a small whimper, he stopped and looked up. Checking for any signs of movement, he deemed her still unconscious before diving back in.

This time, he didn’t hold back. His tongue found her clit quickly, circling viciously before wrapping his lips around it and sucking harshly. More sounds emitted from his girlfriend’s mouth, but with trained eyes, he saw how she remained asleep. He was so enthralled with the way she tasted and the soft, warm skin of her cunt that his mouth became not enough. His hand, that was once gripping her leg, came to circle her hole. In an instant, his fingers slid in, pumping slowly in and out of her.

Tongue sucking and circling her clit, Lando shot his girlfriend another look when he felt her walls squeeze around his digits. Finding her eyes beginning to open, he pulled away from her just enough to speak, “Hi, baby. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, but I’m going to try and show you right now.”

All she could mutter in response was a small hum, still slightly unconscious as she tried to gain her surroundings. Feeling his wet tongue and long fingers working her pussy, Y/n moaned softly as her hands trailed down her body to lace in his hair. Her face began to grind against his when his fingers sped up, his mouth just above her clit as he whispered, “Get yourself off to me, baby. I’ve missed your body so much. Missed the way it felt to have you come all over me.”

Still hanging out in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, Y/n let out a small whimper of his name before coming around his fingers, the digits slowing, but never stopping as to coax her through it. Her legs still shaking and her body laying limply below him, Lando moved up and kissed her lips softly. She was still drowsy and, as his hand caressed the side of her body, the other began taking his dick out of his underwear.

“Is this okay, my love?” He asked in her ear, his tip rubbing lightly against her clit.

She nodded, but it seemed to be inadequate when the friction stopped and he moved her face to look at him.

“I need words, Y/n.” He said firmly.

She nodded again, “Yes, this is good. Don’t stop, Lan.”

Her whiny voice only had his hard-on getting more painful as she stared up at him with half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t wake up, just yet.” He whispered back before sliding his dick into her.

A loud moan left both of them, her hands laying down by her sides as her laziness prevented her from having energy to grip onto him. The only grip she could give to him were the walls of her cunt, something he was in love with.

“Fuck, Y/n, you feel so good. Saved all this for my coming home gift, huh?” He said breathlessly, his body hunched over hers as he pounded into her, giving her no time to adjust.

Her moan was muffled by the way her teeth gnawed on her lip, “Missed you so much, Lan. Wished my fingers were you the whole time you were away.”

His ego inflated as he smiled down at her, “Yeah? Poor baby couldn’t get herself off properly because I fuck you too good for it to ever be the same.”

She nodded, moans leaving her mouth as she began to enter out of a slightly groggy state.

“This pussy’s all mine, huh?” He said, her nodding pushed him to go further, “Good, love, that’s good because I need this, you, for the rest of my life. Can’t go another day without this pussy.”

He continued to pound into her, his dick hitting deep spots within her that had her eyes rolling back. Through choppy moans, however, she was able to get out, “Race weekends, Lan.”

He shook his head, forehead coated in sweat as he angled his hips in a way that made his dick bulge from the inside of her stomach, “No fucking way, Y/n. I’m not doing that ever again. I can’t fuck my hand in the shower after I’ve won a podium. I need this pussy. I need this mouth,” He ran his fingers over her lips, “I need these tits,” Groping her boobs, he continued, “I need this ass,” His hand moved around her body to massage her butt, “And, most of all, I need you.”

She moaned loudly as he leaned back and grabbed her ass, pulling her hips up to sit slightly on his lap, so he could sheath his dick as far as he could inside her.

“Fuck, yes, Y/n. God, baby, I’m fucking drunk on you. Come, baby. Come, Y/n. Fuck, come for me.” He pleaded, snapping his hips at a rapid pace.

When she seemed too out of it to comprehend her quickly approaching release, Lando leaned over and whispered, “Come around my cock, baby. Mark it as your own. Fucking milk my cock, pretty girl.”

Seemingly, her mind was snapped back to reality and she was screaming out his name as they both came together. His hips continued to move in her, but at a slower pace. His eyes took her in, her fucked out state. He admired her messy hair and plump lips, the way her chest heaved up and down, as well as the way her hands twitched at her sides as if they were trying to reach for him. Lando’s hand left her ass to meet the twitching palm, grabbing it in his own hand and caging it. Her head lulled to the side, clearly still tired, before Lando pulled out. Her whimpers at the loss of contact had him laying a few kisses across her face before whispering something about going to get a warm cloth to clean the mess.

When he returned, he smiled at how his girlfriend had fallen asleep once more. His only option left was too slowly and gently wipe up the middle of her thighs and clean himself before sliding back in beside her, pulling her into his arms properly for the first time in days.

He breathed in her scent as his hand smoothed her hair down, listening to her breathing and mentally laughing at how easy it was for her to fall in and out of sleep.

Her ability to stay asleep, however, he deemed a plus.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando norris edit #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando norris x you

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propertyofkylar · 3 months

Text

happy valentine’s day - m!kylar x f!pc

cw: breeding kink

You stood outside the manor door, grasping a large tote bag in your hands. It being the middle of February, the weather was still quite unpleasant, so without knocking, you walked right inside.

Almost immediately as you stepped in, you were attacked. A pair of arms wrapped tightly around you and you stiffened in response before realizing it was just your overly-eager boyfriend.

“Kylar,” you squeaked out. “Lemme breathe.”

He apologetically took a half-step back, not letting go of you. Kylar looked up at you, his eyes shining brightly through his bangs. “Sorry! Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m just so excited…” he said sheepishly, and you got the idea that he wasn’t really all that sorry.

You smiled and playfully shook your head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Kylar practically lit up when you did that, and was about to snuggle into you again before he got distracted by the bag in your hand. “What’s that?”

You lifted the bag in question. “Gonna make you something to eat.”

Growing up in the orphanage, Valentine’s Day had never been more than you and Robin exchanging sweets you had managed to sneak past Bailey. But now, having a boyfriend, you figured you should actually do something. You weren’t able to afford much and still be able to pay Bailey, and while you knew Kylar would be overjoyed no matter what you offered, you still thought the boy deserved something nice.

Kylar lit up even more and practically jumped for joy. “Thank you, my love!”

You couldn’t help but smile even more as the two of you walked into the rarely-used kitchen. “Curry noodles,” you explained as you set the ingredients on the counter. “I figured it’d be like that crap you eat every day, but with actual nutrients and a non-deadly amount of sodium.”

His head rested on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around you from behind. “Anything you make will be delicious.”

“That’s sweet of you to say, and probably not true,” you smiled. “Now I need you to get off me so I can actually cook.”

“Oh!” Kylar withdrew as if he had been shocked. “Presents! I need to give you your presents!” He scrambled out of the room and returned with a large gift bag.

You began prepping the meal as Kylar showered you with a variety of gifts like flowers, heart-shaped boxes of chocolate and more. You opted not to ask where - or rather, how - he had gotten his hands on them.

Making idle chitchat with your sweet (and overbearing boyfriend), the meal quickly came together and it was time to eat. You dished up a plate and slid it in front of Kylar, who was eyeing the meal like he had never seen anything so delicious before.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, it’s probably not that good,” you warned, but Kylar vigorously shook his head “no.”

“Anything my love makes is the most delicious thing ever!” He proclaimed before taking a bite. Kylar’s face was aglow with joy as he beamed at you. “It’s amazing!”

He quickly dug in for more, and with a chuckle, you began to eat your own helping. Well, it was pretty decent, after all.

You didn’t talk much through dinner - Kylar was unable to speak as he was scarfing down his food and you actually had to ask him to slow down in fear he might choke - and when you two were done, he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look on his face.

“Thank you, my love,” he said. “Everything you do is perfect. You’re perfect.”

You smiled at the flattery, an eagerness building inside of you as you thought about what was coming next. “That’s not all I have planned.”

Kylar’s eyes widened and his face flushed slightly. Yeah, he had picked up on what you meant. “O-oh?”

Your smirk grew. “It’s time for dessert.”

Without hesitating, Kylar stood from his chair and grabbed your hand, dragging you to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him, panting a little.

You took your time going to sit on the edge of his bed, feeling Kylar’s eyes on you all the while. He stood by the door, fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Honestly, it was so cute how he still got so nervous when you had sex.

You almost didn’t notice the red rose petals resting atop his bedsheets. The sight of them made you smile. It was a sweet, romantic touch.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Kylar,” you said softly, spreading your legs a little. He could see right up your dress and audibly gulped at the sight of your lacy underwear. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He blinked repeatedly. “W-whatever I want?”

You nodded. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Kylar sucked in a breath, then nodded. He made his way over to you and tugged at your dress. “Off.”

You stifled a giggle at his forwardness and teasingly took the dress off, revealing the matching bra and panties you had underneath. His eyes roamed your body hungrily and you couldn’t help but blush yourself under the intensity of his stare.

“See, this is what you get when you don’t steal my underwear.”

Kylar frowned. “No teasing,” he said, and pushed you back on the bed so swiftly that you gasped, many of the petals fluttering to the floor.

With his hands pressing on your shoulders, he straddled you, still unable to take his eyes off your body. “So perfect…” he murmured.

Your whole body felt hot as his hands began to move, grabbing and groping various parts of you. You let out a soft whimper, which seemed to awaken something in Kylar.

He brought his mouth right up against your ear, the feeling of his hot breath sending a shiver through your body. “I’m not gonna stop til I’ve put a baby in you.”

Without giving you a chance to react, he slid your panties down and shoved his head between your thighs. He quickly set to work, licking and sucking, and he had you squirming with pleasure within mere moments.

“Fuck, Kylar,” you gasped. He knew your body so well that he was able to lock onto that one spot so quickly.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled against you, and the vibrations of his voice made you shudder.

You cried out as you hit your first climax of the night, and Kylar drew back, a wide grin on his wet face. He clambered back over top of you, tugging off his sweatshirt and t-shirt in one motion.

He kissed you hard and you tasted your own juices on his tongue. “I want you to feel good,” he said, tugging down his pants. A large damp spot was visible on the front of his boxers where his cock was straining against the fabric and he looked up at you sheepishly.

“I can’t help myself,” he muttered, and it made you smile. You sat up to peel down his boxers, revealing his flushed and painfully hard cock that was practically dripping precum. Kylar’s breath hitched as you lightly trailed your fingers down his shaft.

Shaking his head and inhaling deeply, Kylar pushed your shoulders so you were laying flat on the bed. He gently stroked his shaft, lubing up his cock between your folds.

Then, with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, he plunged his cock into you.

Almost immediately, Kylar started whimpering and mumbling, but you couldn't make much of it out other than “ohmygodIloveyousomuch.”

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, but found yourself unable to say anything either.

“Kylar,” you whined, which only inspired Kylar to move his hips faster, relentlessly fucking you as he pressed your legs back, moving you into a mating press.

This new angle had you seeing stars, and already you could feel your second climax approaching.

Kylar was pressing kisses all over your face and neck - anywhere he could reach, basically, all while mumbling under his breath about his love for you and how he would die if he didn’t put a baby in you tonight.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore, and gripped onto Kylar’s shoulders as you came again.

His stuttering hips and erratic breathing signaled that his climax wasn’t far behind. And with a cry, Kylar came inside you, his hands clinging to your waist as he thrust inside you as deeply as possible.

Kylar buried his head in your neck and laid on top of you, your limbs intertwined, and his cock still inside of you. “I love you,” he mumbled against your sweaty skin.

It made you smile. “I love you too,” you replied, and you could feel his own smile grow against your neck.

Wrapping your arms around his back, you held him close as you rested your cheek atop his head, closing your eyes and settling in.

But Kylar had a different idea.

He flipped around so he was on his back and you were on top of him. You could feel him hardening again inside of you already, and the crazed look was back in his eyes.

“Y-you can’t expect to get pregnant from just one load, my love.”

You were in for a long night.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #kylar the loner #dol kylar #kylar x reader #writing #WOW #FINALLY DONE #YIPPPEEE HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT #cw breeding kink

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auspicioustidings · 4 months

Note

141 fighting each other to be the one whose lap reader sits on during a meeting or smth

CONGRATS ON 1kkkk

Thanks <3 Please find silly nonsense below!

Tomfoolery Senses

Words: 1k

CWs: Slightly spicy but nothing explicit

Honestly you shouldn’t even be on base, not with your knee being how it was. It was annoying as hell that the recovery time meant you were out of the field for the foreseeable, but they still needed you. You may not be able to run around with a gun right now, but tactical was always your strong point anyway so for now you attended meetings and made plans.

You walked into one such meeting and your tomfoolery senses immediately went off. There were too many glinting eyes for them not to have pulled something, and when you went to sit down you nearly laughed out loud at the bloody audacity. No empty seats. Strange since there should be some, almost as if someone had relocated them beforehand specifically for some ridiculous purpose.

“Ye can sit here bonnie!”

It took a moment for your brain to catch up. Soap was very much patting his lap in excitement. The last time you had ended up in that man's lap his hand had wandered during the entire meeting. You recalled being a mess by the end of it and Soap being very much like the cat who got the cream about it because he knew it meant when he followed to your room like a puppy you would let him in.

“Move your arse MacTavish, I’m injured and I need the seat.”

“Wouldnae dream of it! As ye’ll recall, I also have a dodgy knee. Only right for us tae stick together.”

“Surely you’re not asking them to sit on your dodgy knee then Johnny? Come on sweetheart, right here.”

You gave Ghost a bemused look. Soap you expected this from, but him? Actually no, you had very much been overwatch for 141 missions, this is exactly the kind of nonsense you expected of this idiot.

“Now I would love to, but weren’t you just telling me about your bad back? I seem to remember something about needing me to massage it. It would be irresponsible of me to risk making it worse.”

“Your massage fixed it right up actually" he replied, large hand patting thick thigh in further invitation.

You rolled your eyes. Your “massage” had lasted about a minute with you sincerely giving it your best effort before he had pinned you down and given you a very thorough massaging of his own. Only that one had done the opposite of fixing your back, if anything you'd say he had in fact blown it out.

“That so? You were complaining about it right before they walked in” Gaz said, smug as anything even while Ghost glared over at him.

“He's a lying git luv, obviously just looking to get a gorgeous thing in his lap. My lap, however, is neutral.”

You knew for a fact his lap was not neutral, not one bit. His lap was very much the kind of lap that you found yourself bouncing on anytime he got you alone and charmed you right into it. You could be in the middle of a training exercise, fully in the zone, and next thing you knew you were stuffed full of Kyle bloody Garrick in the middle of a safehouse where anyone could wander in at any moment. It wasn't like you were a big risk taker, but he could make you think anything was a good idea.

“A veritable Switzerland I'm sure.”

“Safest place to be really.”

“Look me in the eye and say that with a straight face then.”

Soap and Ghost groaned in tandem as you made the mistake of looking at Gaz. That bloody sunshine smile could sell ice in the Arctic and as such everyone usually avoided eye contact when they knew he wanted something. Charisma score above 20 that boy. Honestly these fuckers were the worst, but oh Gaz's big brown eyes were just smiling so gently at you and surely he would never do anything untoward. How could you look at this man and think he would ever manipulate you?

“Corporal, come ‘ere, that's an order.”

Gaz's sunshine expression turned to one of wry disbelief. He had been so close, you had been about to take a step towards him. It was awfully unsportsmanlike for Price to pull rank, something Gaz would be holding against him.

“So much for honour.”

“Cheeky fucker.”

“Just taking the piss Captain.”

It wasn't completely unfounded for Price to use his rank to get what he wanted when it came to you, it was why usually the others would try to get you away from him. Ghost did it sometimes too if he wasn't there and the Sergeants were. Although he didn't use it quite as thoroughly as Price did once he got you alone. The Captain was always happy to give you orders if only so he could punish you when you bit back, which you did often. Not because you enjoyed the punishment, that certainly wasn't it. You could not supply another reason, but that was besides the point.

“Well I suppose I have to since you're the Captain, unless there was someone that technically had more authority to give me orders” you said with a grin.

“Come on now pet, don't be like that, just come sit and we can start the meeting hm?” he said, using that voice that was right in the middle of soothing dominance and rough command in a last ditch effort.

“Of course Captain, just want to clear it with command first.”

Price sighed, glancing over and seeing that he had lost the fight when he was met with Kate's sly little smile. She was often your saviour when it came to these men. It helped that her and her lovely wife were both sweet on you. They had invited you round for dinner once or twice, and suffice to say the very delicious home cooked meals were not the only thing getting eaten. If there was one thing the men in the 141 hated more than losing to one another, it was losing to Laswell. She was always so annoyingly smug about being your favourite.

As you settled right down in her lap and both the meeting and Kate's hands gently massaging at your waist started, the 141 collectively thought that next time they'd better bring you a damn chair.

#mhairiwrites #cod #tf 141 x reader

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chrollohearttags · 1 year

Note

high eren is always more aggressive in bed and y/n acting out for him? ten times worse. yeah he’s been cooped up in his studio for two days without paying his wife’s neediness any mind but a fat blunt and her attitude will definitely do the trick

yep, that’ll do it 😩 y’all know I love me some mean eren.

cw: rough sex, eren is so mean omg :( weed use, choking, degradation and name calling, HEAVY breeding, some other things, porn w no plot and we getting straight into it 🤭

“..’Rennnn, slow downnn..fuck!” (Y/N)’s whiny breath exclaimed in a choked out moan. It was all you could even manage or muster at the moment, considering your husband was currently fucking you absolutely senseless! You had no idea what had incited this change in him but you were certain it could only be deduced to him being holed up in his workspace for forty eight hours, trying to complete an important deadline and you making it no better by being a brat. Annoying him every hour to come spend time with you and then giving him the silent treatment when it was too late. He was stressed..in need of an outlet and your little pussy seemed like the perfect source. Hence why he had you folded up on the couch, ass in the air as he hit you from the back..

“Shut the fuck up and take this dick…doing all this begging for it, now you wanna stop?” you had never heard your sweet Eren be so mean. But that’s how he was when he was not only in extreme duress but intoxicated! A firm hand planted to the center of your spine, the other pulling at your hair and an ignited blunt pursed between his pouty pink lips. His green eyes glossed over in a haze of euphoria from the potent weed and the ripple of your thick ass driving him insane. He didn’t care about your tears, how many times you claimed to not be able to come anymore or if you clawed the damn cotton from the sofa…this body was his until he couldn’t bust another nut! So he’d hopelessly thrust his hips forward, digging you out with this massive dick…letting the throbbing tip peck your g-spot and beyond with each stroke. Just then, you felt his hand collide with your asscheek once more and it was much harder than the last slap! Not to mention, a palm suddenly snaking around your throat! “And I told you to keep that back arched, didn’t I? What, you can’t fucking listen now? Or do you only hear what you want to?” Even still, it excited you a little..

taking you right there in the living room because he couldn’t even be bothered to carry you to the bed. Talking to you like nothing more than a toy…it brought out a feeling you never knew you liked. That much apparent by the way that tight cunt clamped around him each time he spat at you or called you out of your name..maybe you’d anger him more often! Mounted like a wild animal in heat, (y/n) would feel the strands of his long hair tickling your shoulder blade; tingling in several places as he hissed in your ear. “Mmm…I’m sorry, daddy. You’re just fucking me so g-good..I can’t help it.. ‘s too deep..” crying out with tear stained eyes and a trembling lip that done nothing more than make your man laugh and taunt you. “Awww, my little slut can’t take anymore?..can’t handle it, yeah?” His words like venom seeping through your veins and making your spine tingle. But before you could answer, he’d rut his hips even harder, completely planked atop you with his hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you pinned down. Feeling each deep thrust in the pit of your stomach. Along with the sloshing of him fucking his own seed out of you. “Then next time you’ll act like you have some goddamn sense and stop testing me..” muttering out of frustration with the rhythm of his pounding becoming much faster and your cries growing louder in return. Chocolate eyes trailing to the back of your skull as a result. “Baby…pleaseeee.” This man is going crazy…making you see stars and regret all of your bitching. When you felt him slow to sporadic strokes and hear the huffs heaving from his barreled chest, you knew he was close yet again. It’d be a matter of time before he stuffed you with more of that creamy mixture. Only furthering the mess of your previous orgasms below. Having already two knots prior..

“I swear you piss me off sometimes but this pussy feels so good, baby…fuck!” Drawing out in a long, whiny breath whilst he drilled further. Your legs had become all but useless by this point..causing (y/n) to collapse into the cushions, smothering your face into the pillows. Unable to silence you entirely or muffle the sounds of you begging to come and for him to do the same. In his mind, he wanted to keep going..relentlessly fucking the shit out of you all night until you learned your lesson. However, it wasn’t realistic, seeing as how you were tightening around his shaft. He didn’t have to tell you what to do, hell, he never did because you responded to his body on instinct..completely bound to him and instead, you’d both fall into those climaxes as one. “Shit….right there. Come on that dick, bitch..you can give me one more..” Fading into bliss as you hit your peak again. Your breath hitching in your chest and windpipe, making you gasp once you came back to..normally, he’d be rather attentive to your needs, making sure you were okay before going any further. However, your husband wasn’t bothering to be so kind tonight. It didn’t mean he loved you any less because he couldn’t even if he tried but your sassiness and this substance had awoken a different side of him. So the second you slathered him in your silky cream, he filled your fertile little womb more of his own seed. That swollen, battered pussy probably unable to house another droplet of his cum. He didn’t pull out right away though..he’d allow it to sink into you until he no longer could stay in it. Slapping that length between your bubbly cheeks and caressing your back as he chuckled. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you..just really stressed out but you did so good f’r me.” His praise being all but worth it. Seeming that whatever spell that had overcome him was lifted and he was back to his normal, sweet, doting self..but it did instill something in your brain..a lesson that you’d never forget:

make him mad more often!

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chelseeebe · 9 months

Text

deadly.

summary: tagging along to a gig could never be a bad idea, could it?

smut 18+, steve is a cocky bastard and this basically a rehashed y/n goes to a concert and the lead singer falls in love w/ her from the wattpad days it is incredibly self indulgent lol

an: erm so i apologise for not posting in what feels like forever but a series of things happen (i lost and then subsequently survived the great war and got taylor tickets), my dad is in hospital (he's okay!) and i have written a 10k+ the bear au with eddie (lemme know if u want that) that has occupied my mind so i have excuses ok

‎♡‧₊˚

It’s slightly difficult to believe that you weren’t utterly enamoured with Steve Harrington the first time you laid eyes on him. You felt like the odd one out, surrounded by a gaggle of screaming, adoring fans.

You liked the music enough, so when Jen had suggested getting the tickets, you were completely up for it.

You had just never expected for the night to end like this.

Jen had been hand plucked from the crowd for some after party, the security guy had eyed you up and down, shrugged and just muffled a quiet whatever when she asked if you could go along.

There was a small group of other girls being ushered into the intimate room of the club, all looking incredibly similar. Buzzing with excitement, barely able to contain themselves when they saw the band lounging on the velour chairs. It just all felt incredibly forced and you knew exactly what the end goal was.

The room is murky, full of girls chattering, trying their hardest to grab the attention of at least one of the guys.

And yeah, maybe it was a little cool but you were tired and knew you’d end up having to find your own way home as Jen was gone. She’d wriggled her way onto the couch next to who you think is the drummer, batting her eyelashes and flashing him that signature pout that meant he was putty in her hands. He’s her usual type, long floppy hair.. the brooding kind.

“You not having fun?” a voice mutters into your ear, barely audible over the thumping music. It’s Steve, or the frontman, still in his stage get up with a cup of something in his hand.

“Oh, no I am.. I’m just tired,” playing it off with a small smile. You were not about to cockblock Jen and get the pair of you escorted out with your resting bitch face.

He nods, eyeing the undrunk glass of champagne in your hand, it was warm now, undrinkable, “you don’t drink?”

“Ah..” you do drink, just not open drinks that had been shoved into your hand by some barman the second you walked in here, “I just don’t… and don’t take offence, I don’t take open drinks from strangers,” baring your teeth in an awkward smile.

Steve laughs out loud, envying girls snap their heads in your direction, he takes the flute from your hand, “yeah that’s smart, you want another one? We can both watch him pour it,” motioning towards the bar.

You had desperately wanted another drink, just too shy and self-conscious to make a scene out of pouring this one away to do anything about it. Nodding graciously as you both stand from the cramped couch, walking up to the bar with daggers in your back.

“What’re ya’ having?” his eyes heavy on yours, leaning across the bar to get the man’s attention.

“What are you drinking?”

“Whiskey,” shaking the cup in your direction.

“Ooh maybe not,” scrunching your nose in disgust, peering over the bar at the collection of liquors they had. Basically, a bunch of expensive shit you didn’t recognise. “Can I just get a vodka lemonade?” shying away at your incredibly basic pick.

“Classic,” Steve nods, eyes on you but yours are glued to the bartender, watching eagle eyed as he fills the cup.

“You’re supposed to be watching too,” raising your brows with a smug smile, you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face.

He scoffs, grinning to himself, “I think you’ve got that covered,” not once lowering his gaze. He’s confident, cocky even. Worlds apart from the usual guys you’d encounter, pathetic yet arrogant in the way they spoke to you.

You take the drink with a smile, the bartender walks away to the other end of the bar with so much as a grunt in response.

“I haven’t- I need to pay,” finally meeting Steve’s eyes again, baffled by the entire interaction.

His eyes glint with amusement, shaking his head, “not here.. it’s all paid for,” it’s endearing to him, perhaps he’d got used to girls just already expecting it.

“Wow..” your mouth contorting into a perfect ‘O’, “well, thank you for the drink,” sipping out of the straw with a smirk. If you’d known, you would’ve taken full advantage way earlier.

“Well that’s my pleasure, d’you smoke?” rustling in his pockets for the pack of cigs, leaning over to your height.

You eye the box, “only socially, but if they’re someone else’s cigs then yes, definitely.”

He bursts into a cackle, “well let’s go then,” placing his hand on your elbow, leading you through the room and out of the side door, passing the prying eyes of the other girls. You weren’t dumb to what was going on, any of those girls would jump at the chance to get led out of a club by Steve Harrington.

It’s chilly outside, your body shivering at the sudden drop in temperature. He hands you a cigarette, lighting his own and flashing a quick thumbs up to the large security guard who had taken it upon himself to stand blockading the door.

“Is this something that happens every night?” you ask cautiously, honestly not wanting to offend but rather curious about the answer.

He nods, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth, “most nights on tour, yeah,” his lighter in his palm ready for you to take.

“Hmm.. right,” lighting your own cigarette, running your thumb over the engraved metal. Peeking down at the cursive lettering, O.H. Passing it back to him without any questioning.

“You gettin’ jealous already?” one eyebrow quirked up, you’re thankful that he doesn’t take offence.

“Yeah totally,” playfully rolling your eyes. Hundreds, if not thousands of girls had been in your exact position before and yet you still found yourself getting giddy over his flirty words and infectious smile. Sickening. “Is it always like this? You don’t get tired?”

He cocks his head to the side, “sometimes yeah, but those boys in there are dogs yanno? Bad influences,” smirking as his lips part to exhale. Effortlessly sexy with his eyes hung low, heavy as they refuse to leave yours.

“Oh and you’re not?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny..” holding his hands up in innocence, closing the gap between you.

Pressing your lips together, focusing on the cigarette in your hand rather than his obvious advances. If you were going to be another notch in his bedpost, you were going to make sure he worked for it.

“It’s crazy because I just don’t believe you,” matching his smirk, taking another sip of your drink. It was becoming increasingly harder to resist his caramel tinted eyes and the gorgeous eyelashes that hung over them.

“Well,” he remarks, stumped by your stubbornness, “I guess I’ll have to prove it to you,” throwing the butt off into the distance somewhere. His hand reaching out to find your elbow once more, “shall we go in?”

You nod, dropping your own half-smoked cigarette, walking back into the crowded club with his hand resting on the small of your back. Falling into the first empty seat you could find, his large thighs squishing into the tiny section next to you, brushing against your scantily clad legs.

My God, if looks could kill, you would’ve been six feet under by now.

You chatter away all night, his lips brushing against your ear, feeling his breath over your cheek sent shivers down your spine.

Jen had already disappeared, flashing you a very reassuring nod before being bundled out of the club with her emo dream boy trailing closely behind.

It’s late now yet there were still hoards of girls milling around, hoping for one last chance with whoever was left. You’re pretty sure they had got the memo that Steve was simply not interested, watching as he hung off of your every word, passing you drink after drink while sipping on his own with intent eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to really care about your life but he had asked all the right questions, talking about your job and going back to school. Shit that you were sure he would forget the second you left.

The security guard from earlier comes over and whispers something into Steve’s other ear. He just nods before placing his hand on your shoulder, leaning into your ear, “I’m gonna go back to my room now,” sitting forward in the extremely cramped chair.

Your heart sinks a little, as shameful as it is, you’re a little disappointed. Attempting to quickly figure out how you would now get home without Jen.

“You wanna come with?”

Head pricking up at the question, staring at him for a brief moment before nodding. His pink lips curling into that smirk you’d become accustomed to. Smug and enchanting all at the same time.

You’re bundled into a car, security guards speaking in low voices to the driver, you can vaguely hear the word paparazzi be mumbled and then a bunch of directions. It’s all a bit too much, Steve is serious as sin sat next to you in the back, listening intently to whatever the security guard was mumbling into his ear.

You sit in amazement, contemplating if this maybe wasn’t the best idea until the door slams shut and the car sets off. Steve turns to you, rolling his eyes as his hand creeps onto your knee.

“Sorry.. apparently there’s paps outside the hotel so we’re goin’ the long way until they get rid of them,” sliding his hand north, squeezing onto your thigh. “We’re stuck in here for a little while longer, I hope you don’t mind?” the streetlights illuminating his face, remnants of his black eyeliner cling to his eyes.

“Jeez..” blowing the air from your cheeks, “must be exhausting.”

“I don’t mind it, I just don’t think my manager would appreciate waking up to the pictures.. ya know?”

“Not really.. but I get it, you don’t wanna look like a whore in the media,” returning the smirk he had been giving you all night, shifting in your seat to see him better.

“A whore? I prefer slut if I’m honest,” shifting closer, eyes lingering on your lips for entirely too long.

“You could be both,” tongue peeking out to wet your suddenly parched lips, “it wouldn’t be a lie, would it?”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest, “shut up,” free hand trailing upwards from his own lap to cradle your cheek, pressing his plump lips to yours with haste, eyes fluttering shut at the contact.

Your fingers curl into the soft material of his shirt, pulling his chest to yours, leaning back against the hard plastic of the door. You sorta hoped the paparazzi would linger a little bit longer just so you could stay exactly like this.

It’s a grand hotel room, they definitely had not skimped on the budget here. Nothing at all like the budget rooms your family had forced you into on vacation. It takes a moment for you to completely take in the entire room, a standard of elegance that you’d never seen before.

“You’re like.. rich rich then,” gawping at the tall ceilings like a child in a candy store.

Steve chuckles, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, pulling your attention from the grand decor and back to him, “I’ve seen better.. d’you want something to drink?” motioning towards the stocked minibar.

“Please,” you remark, eyeing the sheer amount of variety in the tiny bar.

He pauses, coming around to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed, “kiss me and you can have anything you want,” lingering fingers on your hips.

The corner of your mouth twitches, “anything?” widening your eyes at the prospects of his proposition.

“Anything.”

You must’ve dropped off to sleep at some point as you wake back up to the feel of Steve’s hand on your ass, thumb playing with the lace band of your thong. He’s leaning against the headboard in quiet reflection. The bedside lamp is still on and you’re not sure if he ever slept.

“Do you ever sleep?” you ask groggily, shifting to face him with heavy eyes. His hand clamps around your thigh, startled by your voice.

“You scared the shit out of me,” turning his head to face you, the cold metal of his ringed thumb presses into your soft thigh, “can’t sleep.. happens sometimes after a show,” shrugging slightly.

Sometimes is an understatement. He hadn’t had a full night's sleep in God knows how long. Becoming accustomed to the shoddy hours he did manage to catch.

“Oh,” suddenly feeling guilty that you were here and potentially disrupting him, “I can go.. let you get some sleep,” looking up at him through your lashes.

“No no no no, stay.. stay,” pulling your leg over his waist, hand running up and down the supple skin, “it’s nice having someone here.”

You pull your body closer to his, shifting your weight to sit in his lap, knees positioned either side of his hips. This wakes him up entirely, moving up the bed to sit up, large hands gripping onto your waist.

“Oh? This is what we’re doing now?” he teases, clapping a mild slap to your ass cheek causing your cunt to brush against his already-growing bulge.

“Apparently so,” you snigger, glancing at the thin cotton of his boxers, they weren’t leaving much to the imagination, perfectly outlining the shape of his cock.

“Well great because I love this,” smirking as you clasp onto either side of his face. Carefully placing your lips on his, your tongue slipping past his liquor stained lips.

Mindlessly beginning to grind yourself down against him. He’s uttering a bunch of nonsense into your mouth, bucking his hips up to chase the feeling of your cunt against him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hurriedly trying to slip his boxers down without making you move. Steve’s animalistic in the way he yanks your flimsy panties to the side, fisting his dick in the other. The sight alone makes a pathetic noise form in your throat, practically drooling over him.

“C’mere baby,” he instructs, thumb expertly holding the lace aside as you sit up on your knees, guiding himself through your folds and into your cunt, exhaling sharply as you slide down.

It takes a moment to adjust, he was cocky but fuck, did he have a reason to be. The tip of his cock already nudging uncomfortably close to your soft spot.

“You take me so well,” he proclaims, watching his cock disappear inside of you.

His words make you choke, joining him in looking at the space between your bodies. Feeling just about ready enough to move.

There’s a short knock at the door just as you begin to bounce, pausing with his dick still buried deep inside. Clutching onto his shoulders, sharing a disdainful look for whoever was looming on the other side.

“Nghh, what?” he calls out over your shoulder, sending daggers through the wood.

“Bro, you gotta condom in there?” the voice calls out, low, desperate.

You shift slightly, repositioning your knee and the sight movement is enough to have his fingernails dug into your hip, “holy fuu- no I don’t,” pupils dark as they flit from the door to yours.

That’s your cue to keep going, moving your hips up before slowly sliding back down, his cock filling you to the hilt. Biting down onto your bottom lip to keep from moaning though you’re certain whoever is on the outside isn’t clueless. The tour t-shirt you had slipped on is gripped between his fingers, pulled up your torso, exposing the supple skin.

“Aw fuck man, you’re no help,” the voice complains, banging the door one solitary time before skulking off, presumably to go and bother someone else for a condom.

Your lips twitch into a smile, throwing your head back as your hips gain pace, soft whimpers floating from your slack mouth. His hands are rough and commandeering as they hold onto your waist, setting the rhythm even when he wasn’t on top.

Steve growls, legs propped up as he begins to thrust upwards, trailing his callous palms down to your hips for better leverage. It’s then that you allow him full control, falling into his chest with your fingers knotting into his hair. Tugging at the caramel tinted tufts as this new position catches your neglected clit against his pubic bone, drawing a long cry out of your throat.

“You feel so- mmfuck, so good,” he squeezes out, quickening his pace, filling the room with the sinful sounds of skin on skin. His adam's apple bobbing up and down as his orgasm nears, sharp fingernails leaving red semi-circles in your skin, trying so desperately not to cum then and there.

He dares to look down at the space between you, the image of you wearing his shirt with his cock buried deep in your cunt makes him twitch, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt not to collapse.

“Right there,” you mewl into his ear, fast approaching your own orgasm, thighs becoming spent as he mercilessly slams into you from below.

It takes everything not to bite down on his tanned shoulder as your orgasm crescendos, desperate cries filling the room as you shudder around him. Sweaty palms now palming at his shoulders for some reinforcement as your legs give way.

Steve follows shortly after, sloppy final thrusts as your name echoes the tall walls, surrounded by a chorus of fucks and shits. His chest heaving, pulling you closer into his chest as he melts into the pillow. Graciously still supporting your weight with his large hands while your head still reels.

“You good?” he sighs breathlessly, drawing your face from his neck with a gentle tug of your hair, pulling your attention back to him.

You nod, smiling lazily as you sit upright once more, readjusting the lace thong that had been slung to the side. Pulling his boxers up his thighs without once breaking eye contact.

“Why don’t you just come on the rest of the tour with me?”

A giggle ripples instinctively, he probably said the exact same to every other girl that had been in this position alongside that same heavy, longing gaze he was flashing you. Christ, it probably worked on a few of them too. Give it a few more minutes and you would be convinced right along with them.

“I’m serious,” he blinks, tracing circles onto your hip, still completely enamoured with the way his shirt fell on your body.

“I bet you say that to every pretty girl you fuck,” still refusing to take him seriously, shaking your head at the ridiculous notion. You weren’t sure exactly how long he had been famous, but you were sure he wasn’t that out of touch with reality yet, right?

“Only you,” hands travelling to your bare thighs, “come with me,” thumb tapping a short rhythm onto your skin.

“You don’t even know me.”

“Well I want to, a tour bus is a great place to get to know someone,” he remarks, grinning.

Dawn now creeps in between the hastily shut curtains but you don’t dare to break eye contact. Dropping your hands from his shoulders as you ponder.

“I have a job and a house and bills and I don’t think they’d let me take that much vacation,” attempting to shut him down despite the fact his tactics were clearly working on you.

Endless possibilities run through your mind.. you could quit and beg for your position when you get back.. you’re sure Jen would look after your house, in fact she’d be very enthusiastic about you going and would probably volunteer.

“Fuck it..” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours, “how much is your rent?”

“Steve..”

“How much?”

“Four eighty.”

“Easy, consider it paid,” he relents, staring up into your eyes through his thick black lashes. The flecks of gold that ran through his iris’ were persuasive enough to get you to just quit your job and run off on tour with him.

You sigh, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It would be totally and utterly stupid and irresponsible of you to do this but how could you ignore the niggling feeling in your brain that would never ever disappear if you didn’t.

“You’re being serious?”

“Deadly.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader

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theemporium · 9 months

Note

LITERALLY LOVE TROUBLE AND MAX!!! also this thought has been rotting in my brain ever since reading trouble and max going skinny dipping. trouble wants to get max high and wants to teach him how to get high but he’s already a pro (got that ducth in him) so he doesn’t tell trouble until afterwards.

thank you!! and thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

In fairness, you should have questioned how the man from the Netherlands had never gotten high before. Maybe thinking about it for more than three seconds and making an assumption would have saved you the embarrassment.

But in your defence, Max had been in competitive sports since he was a young child. He spent almost every day of his life training or racing or trying to be the best. It wasn’t the most outlandish thought to have that he would have never gotten high before, that he never wanted to risk a drug test or his own physical performance.

Or, at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

And for Max, he just didn’t have the heart to tell you.

You were so excited when you proposed the idea to him. You were so excited about rolling a joint together and teaching him. You were being so sweet, telling him that it would just be the two of you so he didn’t have to worry about having too much or not being able to get past a coughing fit for the first few puffs.

You were just being you—his Trouble—and he would be damned if he took that excitement away from you.

So, he pretended.

You were sitting in his apartment, in his living room. The windows were opened and he was sprawled against one side of the couch with you leaning back against his chest. His arms laid lazily around as he watched you roll the joint, humming when he was meant to in between your instructions.

You placed the joint between your lips, inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out. You then turned around to look at him, holding the stick between your fingers. “You think you’re ready, Verstappen?”

He raised his brows in amusement. “What would you do if I said no?”

“You don’t have to do it,” you told him in a genuine voice. “I can like…shotgun it for you, if you want.”

Max knew he should have come clean there and then. If he was a good man, he would have done just that and enjoyed passing a joint with his girlfriend on a Saturday evening. But he wasn’t a good man, especially not with the image of you straddling his lap and your lips brushing against his.

“Maybe you should do that,” he murmured quickly with a nod.

He could feel his cock stir in his sweatpants when you turned around, one leg on either side of his hips before you took a deep inhale. You then leaned down, your hair fanning around you, almost creating a wall between the two of you and the rest of the world. You gripped his chin between your fingers, leaning down close enough that your nose was brushing against his and he could have come at the sight alone.

“Please,” he rasped as he parted his lips.

Your lips twitched as you closed the distance between each other. His eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled. His hands gripped your waist as though he wanted to tug you closer, and when you sealed the deal with a kiss, he couldn’t help but let out a groan.

You pulled back enough to look at his face. Your fingers anxiously tugged on the fabric of his shirt as you waited for the coughing fit that never came. Your brows furrowed together when he exhaled with ease, a giddy smile on his face as he tried to lean in for another kiss.

But your hand on his chest stopped him.

Your eyes narrowed on him. “This isn’t your first time, is it?”

His expression was bashful and sheepish.

“Max!”

“I’m Dutch, baby, what did you expect!” He defended before letting out a small chuckle. “C’mon, Trouble, don’t be like that.”

“You probably thought I was an idiot,” you groaned as you nuzzled your face against his chest.

“I thought it was cute,” Max murmured as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Could definitely get used to that little act though.”

“Yeah, I can feel how excited you are,” you deadpanned.

“Then, how about we finish that joint and have some fun?” His voice dropped to a whisper, a hint of desire and anticipation in his words.

Your lips twitched. “And you can make it up to me.”

“Always, Trouble. Always.”

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstappen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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twilghtkoo · 1 year

Text

summary. haechan gets hurt but you know that with him it’s not going to be as simple as putting a band-aid on it

pairings. haechan x reader (f)

genre. fluff, crack? friends to lovers??

word count. 1.64k

warnings. mentions of blood, a creepy man stares at reader

notes. me finding hello kitty bandaids in a store and buying them sparked this idea so :D like and reblog if you enjoy this !!

masterlist

—

your dear friend is one stubborn person. one who seeks excitement wherever he can find it and likes to find things out the hard way. in this case being, falling off of a skateboard. you told him to not ride too fast and to not go down the small pavement hill, and what did he do? go down the hill riding too fast. the hill had caused him to accelerate unwillingly and him not being able to stop himself before he collided with the ground.

you gasped at the scene from the bench that was a bit of a distance between you and haechan, who is lying still in the grass. he’s not dead, just lying face down suffering from embarrassment and moaning in pain.

you let out a big sigh, grabbing all of yours and his belongings before crouching down next to the limp body.

you carefully reach out your hand to place on his back. “haechan…”

he flinched at your presence, turning over slowly. “no go away, let me lie in my own embarrassment and pain alone.” he breathes out. his eyes are shut tightly as he holds his hip and his knees brought to his chest.

you roll your eyes at him, shoving his hand away to take a close look at his knee. “you’re a drama queen, you know that?”

his knee suffered the most from the fall, his hip for sure will have a bruise tomorrow.

you wince at the blood, the . “you’re bleeding haechan, we have to get back to the bench so i can clean it up.” you inform him.

he shakes his head, bringing his forearm to cover his face. “no, just leave me here to bleed out.”

you scoff, shaking your head before you take the arm that hides his face and pulling him up to his feet.

“shit,” he curses.

you allow him to use you for support as you both struggle to make your way back to the park bench. he sits himself down and finally glances at his knee.

his eyes bulge out at the bloody sheet on his knee. “ew, oh my god, that’s a lot of blood.”

you nod, “it’s not too bad, thank goodness. stay here i’m going to run to the convenience store and get stuff to clean it up.” and you’re gone before he can argue, leaving him alone with a bloody knee and an aching hip.

the doorbell chimes once you walk into the store, giving the worker a nod as you make your way to where the bandages are. there’s the store brand, a brand you recognize from tv and there’s some fun cartoon ones. pokémon, baby shark, toy story and others.

a certain box is quickly in your hands as you smirk to yourself. grabbing a few other things before making your way to pay for it.

“hey squirrel, did you see how i fell? was it embarrassing?” haechan speaks to the small animal that is munching on something next to his feet. the squirrel doesn’t react in any way, obviously. and he wonders to himself why he doesn’t listen to you, knowing you’re always right. why did he itch to go down that stupid hill and tumble to his doom. in front of you.

“look at all this blood. can you believe i fell in front of the girl i like.” he speaks again, but more like to himself as he stares at the gash on his knee and the drop of blood trickling down his leg.

you and him are close friends. first meeting each other at the movie theater when a few studio ghibli movies were showing. you ripped his ticket up in your cute work uniform behind the counter, making small conversation and telling him that spirited away was your favorite movie and telling him to enjoy the film.

and he enjoyed the film, even coming back out the theater room and finding you in the same spot you both met earlier. you were a quiet character, not much of a talker but just because you didn’t really have much to say but you loved listening. you love and care for people in your own way, something he admires and loves about you. to strangers you may seem closed off but when you grow comfortable with someone you’re very high spirited.

he hears footsteps running quickly to his side, the squirrel scurrying off probably to the tree behind him. goodbye, little friend.

you slow your pace down once you’re near him, a warm smile on your face as you wave the bag in your hand in front of him.

“i’m back,” you huffed, crouching and placing the bag down next to you. your bottom lip is sucked in between your teeth, deeply concentrated as you take out the essentials.

“i’m just gonna clean it with water real quick, okay?” you show him the water bottle and napkins in your hands.

you carefully pour the liquid onto the napkins, your hand grabs the back of his knee as you bring it closer to the abrasion.

before the wet cloth touches him, he flinches away. “wait!” he yelps.

you jump, “what?”

“i’m scared,” he pouts.

your hands drop. “of what?”

“it’s gonna burn!”

“oh my god, haechan do not start.”

he lightly kicks his leg away from you, shielding his wound with his hands.

“haechan i will literally hold you down, it’s not gonna hurt that bad. i promise.” you try to threaten him. you reach for his leg again, wiping the blood that trickled it’s way down and stained his white socks.

his eyes follow another pair of feet walking past you, a man in a tracksuit ogles at your back. haechan follows his eyes to you, and he realizes you’re wearing a dress. haechan’a eyes narrow at the man but the stranger isn’t ashamed as he keeps looking back at you. he’s sure the man can feel his hard stares but is just ignoring him and that makes his blood coil. haechan shrugs his zip up sweater off and cooly throws it over your shoulders, it’s big enough on you to cover the draft to any passersby’s.

you look at the sweater on your shoulders but ignore it, he observes you for a bit before dropping his shoulders. “hmph, fine.”

“and look!” you gasp, reaching down beside you to hold out the small box of hello kitty band aids with a big smile curving your lips upwards.

haechan’s face deadpans. “how old are you?”

you frown, taken back. “what? they’re bandages, but cute. do you want to bleed out? don’t disrespect miss hello kitty.” you stuck your chin out.

he laughs, “i’m a grown ass man, i’m not slapping hello kitty on my battle scar.”

now it’s your turn to laugh. “a grown ass man that fell and acted like he was on the brink of death. yeah, okay. give me your knee,” you demanded.

you quickly dab as much blood away as you can through haechan’s hisses. wiping away the dried blood was a bit hard since he was fighting you but it’s all clean.

“green or pink?” you ask.

he tilts his head, thinking before he answers green.

you take the selected band-aid, the hello kitty that is customized with a green bow and green dress, a blue colored sky behind her and a red flower on the ground that matches her outfit. how cute.

you peel it off from the wrapper, gently placing it over his wound.

you crumble the trash in your hands and place it inside the grocery bag. “all better now, see? wasn’t so bad.”

you stand up, wincing from the position you were sat in for so long before haechan’s long, slick fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“wait, you forgot something.” he tells you.

“huh, what did i forget?” you genuinely ask.

he looks at you seriously. “you have to kiss it better, so it’ll heal quicker.”

your lips part and your cheeks heat up. “what…” the word barely leaves past your lips.

he raises his eyebrows expectantly, as if he’s waiting.

you shake your head, snatching your hand out of his grasp. “be serious, haechan.”

“i’m being very serious,” he tells you. “come on, don’t you want me to get better?”

“it’s just a scrape, your leg isn’t broken.” can he hear the thumping in your chest? god, it’s like it’s ringing in your ears.

you know he’s not gonna let you get away without actually kneeling down and kissing his knee. he will put up a fight in this park and you know it. he likes to tease you.

but how can he ask that question so freely. your lips have never touched any part of his skin because friends don’t do that!

it’s like he loves torturing you, contributing these heartfelt acts unknowingly like an arrow to your heart.

“you big baby.” you mumble out, crouching down and taking a clear glimpse at the cute bandage on his skin, it makes you smile.

haechan gazed at you, anticipating the moment your lips touch his skin. he is so sure that once your lips come in contact with his knee, he’ll be able to run a marathon. can you hear the thumping in his chest?

your face nears his knee, you pucker your lips and you gently place a kiss just below the bandage.

you clear your throat. “there. better now?” you try to act cool, standing to your feet and peering down at your friend.

“i don’t know, can you watch how far i run?” and your friend zooms past you, running across the grass field as if he wasn’t whining and limping by your side just a few moments ago.

“what the hell?” you shout out, chasing after him. “how are you running? yah, lee donghyuck!”

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solarmorrigan · 3 months

Text

Hands Where I Can See Them, part 8

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Ao3

My unending gratitude to @azure7539arts for talking through this chapter and the next one with me, and helping to untangle all my thoughts!

Eddie spends the next week walking on air. He thinks that if his younger self could see him now, just smiling at random throughout the day, practically mooning over a boy—over Steve Harrington—he’d be horrified, but Eddie absolutely does not give a shit.

He’s happy. He’s hopeful.

He has no idea what the etiquette is for calling someone after a date, if there’s a certain amount of time that you’re supposed to wait so that you don’t seem like a desperate loser, but he figures he wouldn’t adhere to it even if he did know the rule. He calls Steve the very next day and they talk for an hour.

He calls the next day, pushing his luck just a little, but Steve is on his way out the door to work and only has a few minutes of time to spare for Eddie.

A couple of days later, Steve reaches out to him, calling the trailer and this time catching Eddie on the wrong side of a shift. Eddie is tempted to say “fuck it” and just be late to work, but, employing a strength of will he hadn’t even realized he possessed, he recognizes that getting fired wouldn’t help anything. He promises to call Steve back, and he’s at the phone almost as soon as he’s gotten through the door after work that evening.

“So,” Eddie drawls into the phone between hasty bites of a peanut butter sandwich he’d slapped together before calling, trying not to chew in Steve’s ear, “not that playing phone tag with you isn’t fun, but do you think I could see you again?”

“You mean like a date?” Steve teases.

“Exactly like a date,” Eddie replies, not even bothering to quash his smile.

He thinks he can hear Steve’s own smile when he answers, “I’d like that. And I’m actually free this Friday, if you wanted to take advantage of that.”

“Perfect. Why don’t we meet here, at my place?” Eddie offers, and Steve gives a little laugh.

“What happened to waiting until the third date?” he asks. “Trying to seduce me into your bed already?”

“While you are very much worthy of seducing, I’m afraid I have different plans for the evening,” Eddie says. “So, meet me here? About six?”

“Sure, Eddie,” Steve agrees, voice still warm with mirth. “I’ll be there.”

And so, Friday evening finds Eddie on the front steps of his trailer, eagerly bouncing on the balls of his feet and watching as Steve pulls up in front. He doesn’t even wait for Steve to fully exit his car before he’s crossing the distance with a few long strides; the moment Steve has straightened up and shut the door, Eddie is right there, leaning into his space the way he hasn’t been able to in what feels like too long.

He’d like to drape himself over Steve’s back, wrap his arms around his waist, casual and easy like it had been before, but, apart from being in public, Eddie doesn’t want to push Steve too far. He keeps a small cushion of air between them instead, and leans up to murmur in Steve’s ear, “Goooood evening, sweetheart.”

Steve laughs, nudging Eddie back with his elbow, but the fond look on his face says it’s not because he wants Eddie away from him so much as he just wants a little room to move. “You’re excited tonight,” he says, still smiling as he turns around.

“Any night I get to see you is a very exciting night, indeed,” Eddie declares, just a little theatrical about it, grinning as Steve cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” He’s trying to sound unimpressed, but Eddie clocks the pleased, pink flush starting to gather at the tops of his cheeks.

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “It’s true and I’ll say it. Now c’mon.”

Eddie waves for Steve to follow as he sets off walking towards the entrance to Forest Hills, and Steve glances, confused, between Eddie and the trailer.

“We’re not staying here?”

“Nope,” Eddie says again. He keeps walking and, as expected, Steve heaves a sigh and jogs to catch up.

“Then why did you tell me to meet you here?” he asks, falling in step with Eddie.

“Because, I wanted it to be a–”

“–surprise,” Steve finishes in tandem with him, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, you liked the last one, didn’t you?” Eddie asks, leaning in to bump his shoulder against Steve’s.

Biting his lip around a smile, Steve glances over at Eddie. “Yeah,” he admits, bumping Eddie’s shoulder back. “Yeah, I did.”

“Then hold onto a little of that faith,” Eddie says.

“I’d have a little more faith if you’d told me we’d be outside again,” Steve grumbles, mostly for show. “I would’ve brought a heavier jacket, it’s almost November.”

“Steve, you run like a furnace,” Eddie deadpans. “Besides, it’s actually nice out. We should enjoy the last of it before winter descends and we spend the next four months freezing our asses off.”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve got on two jackets,” Steve says, nodding towards the battle jacket Eddie has pulled on over his leather one.

“Are you actually cold, or do you just feel like complaining?” Eddie asks.

Steve shoots him a look. “You’ll know when I’m cold.”

Smirking, Eddie shakes his head. “I’m sure I will,” he says. “But we’re not going to be out here long enough for you to freeze your precious bits off, anyway – we’re just about there.”

“We are?” Steve glances around, confused, and Eddie doesn’t blame him; there really isn’t much in this direction until you hit town, which is a longer walk than just ten minutes.

In fact, the only thing around is just coming into view as the trees fall away and a stretch of cleared land begins at the roadside.

“Here we are!” Eddie declares, taking a turn and ambling into the cracked and pitted parking lot of the diner.

“You… brought us here,” Steve doesn’t quite ask. “To the diner?”

“Yeah, c’mon.” Eddie reaches out and takes Steve by the hand, tugging him along until they get close enough to the building that he has to drop it again.

Truthfully, Eddie hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the diner since Steve brought it up last weekend – specifically, that night at the diner.

The more he dwells on it, the more he feels cheated, in a way; like he’d robbed himself of the opportunity to experience his time with Steve the way Steve himself had seen it. And the way Steve had described that night, so full of warmth and potential – Eddie wants that. He wants to see it that way, too.

“I figured we haven’t been here since– well, we haven’t been here in a while. At least, I haven’t. I don’t know if you…?” Eddie glances at Steve for confirmation as they walk through the door, and Steve just shakes his head, brows furrowed. “And I also thought, y’know, it might be nice. If we could both look at a time here as special.”

The frown on Steve’s face doesn’t clear up at that, much to Eddie’s disappointment. He doesn’t look displeased, exactly, but he also sure as hell isn’t giving Eddie that same smile he’d given him last weekend.

Steve’s just opened his mouth to say something when a voice cuts across the noise of the diner, sharp and pleased.

“Boys!” Both Eddie and Steve look up to see Dottie heading towards them with a smile.

If they have anything like a regular waitress at the diner, it’s Dottie – a woman at least in her late fifties with curly hair dyed a violent ginger-red, bejeweled cat’s eye glasses, and heavy, colorful eyeshadow that never seems to dare smudge past her lids. She loves nothing more than trying to feed the both of them until they pop, as far as Eddie can tell, and she always snaps them up when they visit on her shift.

“I thought you’d forgotten all about me. Maybe found some fancier establishment to take your business to,” she says as she reaches the front.

“Are you kidding, Dottie?” Steve asks, suddenly all charm and earnest smiles, his previous mood apparently forgotten. “We wouldn’t go anywhere else. You can’t beat the service here.”

Dottie rolls her eyes, but gives Steve a pleased smile and a pat on the cheek. She grabs two menus and leads them back to a corner booth, past handfuls of regulars, families out for dinner with their kids, and groups of teenagers milking a single order of fries for as long as it will get them a table.

“So where did you two go?” She drops the menus on the table and moves to the side as Eddie and Steve settle in. “Seems like you dropped off the face of the Earth for weeks.”

“Uh… we were just taking a bit of a break,” Eddie says, at the same time Steve tells her, “We were busy.”

Glancing between the two of them, Dottie gives a slow nod. “Uh huh. Well, it’s nice to see you back from your busy break. Two Cokes?”

“You know us so well, Dottie,” Eddie sighs, batting his eyelashes up at her, which earns him an eyeroll and a pat on the cheek, too, before Dottie walks off the get their drinks.

When Eddie looks back over, Steve is looking down, studying the menu even though they both have their favorites memorized by now.

“Is… everything okay?” Eddie asks, sliding his own menu over just for something to do with his hands.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Steve says, and he almost sounds convincing – Eddie might really have believed him if he’d actually looked up at Eddie when he said it.

Eddie sighs, glancing over the laminated plastic pictures of burgers and pancakes, trying to decide what he’s in the mood for.

“Look, I just thought since we haven’t been here in a while, it’d be nice,” he says finally, voice pitched low, so it doesn’t carry past their table. “I know it’s not a candlelit dinner in the park, or whatever–”

“That’s not it,” Steve cuts in. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just– it’s fine.”

Anything Eddie might have come up with to say to that is cut off by Dottie’s reappearance with their drinks.

“You boys ready to order?” she asks, pulling her order pad out and holding her pen at the ready.

“Yeah?” Steve half-asks, glancing up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, and Eddie can’t see anything there but the question of whether or not he’s ready, so he nods, and Steve looks back to Dottie. “Yeah. Can I get a patty melt, please? And fries.”

“You got it,” Dottie scribbles his order down and looks to Eddie, who teeters on the edge of getting a waffle before deciding on the club sandwich and his own order of fries (he’s not entirely sure how well Steve will tolerate his being stolen tonight). “Alright, I’ll get those in for you. Wave me down if you need anything, alright?”

They thank her and she sashays off again, leaving Steve and Eddie to themselves.

The quiet that falls over them isn’t comfortable. It isn’t like the contentment of simply sitting in one another’s company that they used to have, nor even a natural pause in conversation like they’d had at dinner last week; it’s simply an awkward lack of knowing what to say, how to keep things rolling.

Something is off with Steve, but he refuses to say what, and Eddie is desperate to distract from it. He reaches for the first thing he can think of.

“So I didn’t know you and Jeff were, like… friends,” he ventures, thinking back to the way they’d acted familiarly around one another on Eddie’s last visit to the video store.

Steve looks up at him, face scrunched a bit in confusion, and Eddie rushes to clarify.

“I mean, not that I thought you disliked each other, I just didn’t know you were hanging out.”

Wait, no, now it sounds like Eddie is jealous, like he’s trying to keep tabs on Steve, who is still staring at him like he’s not sure what Eddie’s talking about.

“Not that you can’t hang out! That’s fine, I just – thought maybe that was a recent development.” Eddie bites down on the inside of his cheek, trying very hard to shut up.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve finally says. “I ran into him at Melvald’s one night a couple of weeks ago and he invited me to come over to watch a game sometime, since we weren’t really seeing each other at… the usual places anymore.”

“Ah. Right. Right.” Eddie nods. “You know, you… could come to the usual places, if you wanted to. You’re always welcome. In fact, I think your presence as a spectator at Hellfire meetings has been sorely missed.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve nods, but he sounds distant about it at best.

“Did you wanna know what you’ve missed so far? I know we were kind of in the middle of the adventure when we, uh–” Eddie shrugs. “You always say you like hearing the story.”

“Henderson’s been telling me,” Steve says shortly. He grabs his soda to take a sip, but now he actively seems irritated.

Eddie does his best to tamp down his frustration. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong; he has no idea where the night went south, but he’s hopeful he can salvage it.

They sit for a little while longer in mostly awkward silence. Steve folds his paper straw wrapper over and over on itself until it’s a tight little square, then drops it on the table and watches it expand in a little puddle of condensation from his glass. He asks how Wayne is doing. Eddie tries to return the favor, before realizing that the only people in Steve’s life that he doesn’t regularly see are his parents (off-limits if he wants Steve in a better mood) and Robin (who may or may not still want to kill Eddie). He glances around the diner instead, and perks up when his attention lights on the back wall.

“Hey, you got any dimes?” he asks Steve, who sits up a little at the unexpected question.

“Maybe?” he says, shifting in his seat so he can reach into his pocket. “Why?”

Eddie jams his own hand down into his pocket and emerges victorious with a small handful of change. “Never mind, I’ve got some. Be right back.”

He hops out of the booth and heads towards the back, where the behemoth of a jukebox squats, waiting to be fed coins and spit out songs that no one even remembers.

Steve had been right when he’d said most of the music sucks; there isn’t anything more recent than mid-70s, and almost nothing in there had ever been what you would call a chart-topper. Sometimes Eddie and Steve waste their spare change having a contest over who can find the worst song to play, until the waitresses start glaring at them and they slink guiltily back to their table.

This time, though, Eddie flips through for one of the few good songs he knows is in there. He clicks to make his selection and grins as the quick-paced strum of a guitar pours out of the speakers, followed by the crooning of none other than Elvis Presley.

You can always count on The King to pick things up.

“There we go,” Eddie says as he returns to the booth. “Had to set the mood.”

Or maybe you can’t always count on The King, because Steve actually looks kind of pissed.

“What is it?” Eddie asks, any confidence the music had given him draining away.

Steve stares at him for a moment longer, unnervingly intense, before he blinks and looks away. “Nothing. It’s– never mind.”

“No, what’s–”

“Here we are,” Dottie announces, appearing at the side of their table with plates in hand. “Patty melt for Steve, club for Eddie, ketchup for your fries. How’s that look?”

“It looks great, thanks,” Steve says, smiling up at Dottie as though he hadn’t just been glaring offended daggers at Eddie; he’s always been good at that in a way Eddie hates – putting on that shallow, easy-going mask at the drop of a hat.

“Anything else I can bring for you?” Dottie asks.

Eddie is about to say no when he scans the table and realizes the one thing he’d forgotten. “Oh, actually – could I order a vanilla shake, too?”

And that is apparently the wrong thing to say.

Steve’s smile falls away, and he’s giving Eddie a look that sits somewhere between angry and hurt that Eddie doesn’t fucking understand.

“Actually,” Steve says sharply, “I just realized that I have to go. I’m – there’s somewhere else I’m supposed to be, sorry.”

He slides out of the booth around a shocked Dottie and pulls enough money from his wallet to cover his meal and a tip, pressing it into her hand before turning to leave.

“Honey, did you want a box for all this?” Dottie asks, helplessly gesturing towards his untouched meal.

“No, I – sorry, I just have to go,” Steve says, already halfway to the door.

“Shit,” Eddie swears lowly, shimmying out of the booth to give chase.

“Eddie!” Dottie calls out sharply, gesturing to his untouched meal when he turns back to look at her.

“I’m not – I’m not leaving, I swear, I’ll be right back, I just have to–” He glances up frantically when he hears the bell over the door jingle, signifying that Steve is slipping away. “I just have to– Steve. I need to– I will be right back.”

Dottie sighs and nods, and Eddie is off like a shot. He catches up to Steve at the end of the parking lot, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s shoulder when he doesn’t respond to Eddie’s calls.

“Let me go,” Steve snaps, jerking out from under Eddie’s touch, but Eddie isn’t deterred this time, grabbing Steve around the arm and halting him in his tracks.

“No. Not until you tell me what the fuck I did to piss you off!” Eddie says.

Steve wheels around, shooting an incredulous look at him. “Seriously? I have to tell you?” he demands. “How could you think that any of that was okay?”

“I don’t– You like the diner! Or you did!” Eddie exclaims. “How was I supposed to know you suddenly hate it there?”

“It’s not the diner,” Steve huffs, and Eddie finally lets him go, if only to throw his hands up in the air, trying to toss some of his frustration off.

“Then what? I’m not psychic, Steve! How am I supposed to fix my mistakes if you won’t even tell me when I’m upsetting you?”

“You can’t just rewrite the past, Eddie!” The look on Steve’s face is thunderous, until it slides away like he’s too tired to keep it up, exhaustion following in its wake. “You can’t just – you can’t.”

The chill Eddie feels has absolutely nothing to do with crisp October night that had descended while they were inside. “What? No, Steve, that’s not what I was trying to do. Why would I–”

“So what, then? I tell you about the night I thought of as our first date and you decide to just throw it back in my face? Show me what it could have been if you’d just fucking looked at me?” Steve asks.

And suddenly it clicks – everything Eddie had done tonight, almost beat for beat, entirely unintentionally, had damned him.

Maybe if he’d waited a while between Steve’s confession and his decision to take them to the diner, it might have been okay, but for a musician, Eddie’s timing had sucked.

“No, that’s not what this was,” Eddie insists. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then we’re back to you just trying to– to fucking recreate something we already did, so you can try to make it better!” Steve says.

In his floundering, a little of Eddie’s frustration boils over. “Well you’re the one who said you wanted to just go back to doing what we were doing!”

“I also said I wanted to go forward with more awareness! Not go back and do the same shit over again!” Steve snaps. “I’ve spent the last few weeks just– going over and over everything we did together, looking at everywhere I fucked up, everywhere I misinterpreted you, realizing that everything I was looking at as us wasn’t– it wasn’t the same for you. And I was getting used to that, I was… making my peace, or whatever, thinking we’d just move on, and then you go and– and do this.”

“I–” Any of Eddie’s frustration, any anger, it all dries up, leaving behind a cold, rasping desperation. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve opens his mouth, but the sound of the bell over the diner’s door sounds off again, and another man’s stern voice cuts into the silence.

“Young man, you need to come pay your bill.”

“Oh, Herb, he’s a regular, he’s not going to just run out!” Dottie’s voice comes on the heels of the man’s, equally stern. “Just give them a minute.”

“I gave them a minute, Dorothy,” the man—Herb, Eddie guesses—snaps. “I won’t have delinquents doing any kind of dine and dash nonsense.”

“Well, he didn’t even dine, so get back inside. And he isn’t a delinquent. Honestly,” Dottie is practically scolding, but Herb won’t be deterred.

“You’d better go take care of that.” Steve nods back towards the diner, before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and turning to walk off.

“Wait,” Eddie calls out. “Just wait a minute, please don’t–”

“Young man,” Herb barks out again, and Eddie hisses out a string of swears.

He jerks back around towards the diner, yanking out his wallet and trying to count bills as he walks.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I tried to tell him,” Dottie says, genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine, it’s– fine.” He offers her a weak smile. “I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Herb—the manager, if Eddie had to guess by his ugly, front-creased slacks and lack of apron—is unmoved.

“Come with me to the register,” he says, opening the door and gesturing for Eddie to go in.

“Dude, I know how much I owe you, can’t I just give you the money here?” Eddie asks, trying not to squirm with the antsy need to go running after Steve.

“And how much do you owe me?” Herb asks, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s, like, ten dollars for the meal, and then tip. Here.” Eddie holds out a handful of bills, but Herb refuses to take them.

“Like ten dollars isn’t an exact amount. Inside,” Herb demands.

Eddie is half tempted to just throw the bills at him and run, but even as Dottie squawks at the man that he’s being unreasonable, Eddie knows she won’t be enough to sway the guy from trying to ban him—or worse—so he follows Herb in and begrudgingly pays his bill at the register. He makes sure to hand the tip directly to Dottie, making spiteful eye contact with Herb as he does, and then he’s back out the door.

He doesn’t see Steve out on the road. He doesn’t see Steve at the entrance to the trailer park. He doesn’t see Steve’s car in front of his place when he finally gets back, winded from running at least halfway there.

Bastard probably took a shortcut through the woods.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Eddie hauls off and kicks one of the tires on his van, the nearest available object, which does nothing but hurt his foot and make him a little more miserable.

When the jittering swell of anger and disappointment has receded a bit, no longer clogging his throat and giving him room to think a little more clearly, he considers his options.

Like last time, he could give Steve room to cool off. To lick his wounds in peace and then maybe come back to Eddie, ready to talk again.

Or.

Or he could get in his van, go find Steve, and show him that he’s willing to face his mistakes and make them better, whatever that takes. That he wants Steve to tell him what’s really wrong, so they can address it and move forward. That he’s willing to fight for Steve.

He’s already pulling out of his parking space before he even realizes he’s made his decision.

Part 9

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#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #eddiesteve #OKAY BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING JUST REMEMBER #I have promised you a happy ending #solar wrote

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tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

Note

Can you maybe write 2010 toms reaction and hc's for the reader being pregnant?

UNEXPECTED - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you have to tell tom some unexpected news, and his reaction isn’t what you had hoped for.

content: angst

a/n: thank you so much for the request, i am so bad at head canons so i just did a fic, i hope that’s okay!!

my hands shakily clutched at the test, tears rolling down my flushed cheeks as i hoped that somehow, my eyes were deceiving me. positive, the test reads, the eight letters staring back at me, reminding me over and over that they are very real, and i can’t back out of this.

tom and i were always careful, using protection every time we had sex to stop things like this from happening. we were young and foolish, as every 21 year old is, not ready to welcome a child of our own into the world, the thought of it scaring me so much, never thinking that it would become a reality so soon. it wasn’t that we didn’t ever want kids, but tom was constantly on tour, away from home for weeks and though i always went with him, it just wouldn’t be right to take a child with us. we had always discussed starting a family, both of us coming to the mutual conclusion that now just wasn’t the right time.

which is what terrified me even more, tom’s reaction worrying me as i just couldn’t guess what it would be. he was currently at the studio with the band, and he would be home any minute now, evening dawning over us as he had no idea of the news i was about to bring to him.

i sat on the couch, the test stuffed into the back pocket of my jeans, my eyes fixed on whatever was on the tv, but my mind was elsewhere, waiting for the door to open and tom to walk through it, praying that he wouldn’t freak out. there was no time left to just hope, the door handle turning as tom steps through, baggy jacket clad to his figure, reminding me just how cold it is outside. he takes his shoes off, announcing a quick “i’m home my love”, before entering the living room, a smile appearing on his face once he sees me.

he walks towards the sofa, sitting down beside me and embracing me in a hug. my body begins to shake as i can no longer hold back the tears, tom noticing and quickly pulling away, studying my face and the sorrow etched upon it.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he replies, concerned, holding my face and kissing my forehead, attempting to wipe the tears as he awaits my response.

“you promise you won’t get mad?” i manage to let out between sobs, my words almost inaudible, yet he clearly understands what i say, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“what? why would i be mad? you can tell me anything, you know that.” he says, much more composed than i am, his heart aching to see me in this state. “now what’s wrong? please, talk to me schatz.”

my eyes meet his for the first time, bloodshot and glassy, whilst his hurriedly scan my face, the worry only increasing in his own as every second passes that i don’t confess. i can’t bring myself to say the two words “i’m pregnant”, because the second i do, it will truly become real, my mind in some twisted sort of denial, telling myself that if i don’t admit it, it will somehow go away. so, instead of saying what is wrong, i decide to show him, reaching hesitantly into my back pocket and placing the pregnancy test in his hands.

he looks downwards, finally seeing the reason why i am so upset. his body tenses up, his mouth hanging open in shock the only thing he is able to do. i cant tell if he is happy, excited, or completely angry, all i know is that he cannot believe his eyes. the tears continue to spill down my cheeks, praying that he will reassure me that everything will be okay, but the twisting feeling in my stomach provides me with the terrifying realisation that i’m not going to receive that comfort.

“please say something.” i whisper, my voice shaky as he still hasn’t moved or even looked at me, his eyes fixed on the pregnancy test in his palm of his hands.

“is this real?” he mutters, refusing to look at me, his hands trembling a little.

“it’d be a pretty fucked up joke tom.” i reply, angry at his ridiculous question but not in any position to consider causing an argument, knowing that is the last thing i need right now.

“i just- i don’t know what to say. i’m not ready for this.” he confesses, finally looking upwards as his gaze meets mine, his eyes now glazed with tears, yet he isn’t sad - i see a glare within them that cannot be mistaken for anything else but anger.

“i’m not either tom, you know this. i don’t know what to do.” i put my head in my hands, sobbing even more now, my breathing fast and irregular. my mind longs for any sort of comfort from him, even a little reassurance, a half-hearted ‘it’s gonna be okay’, even though it would be a lie, it would be the most perfect one he ever told, because it would give me a million times more consolation than i am receiving right now. but he stays silent, biting his lip, almost as if he is stopping himself from truly speaking his mind.

“i can’t do this.” he finally says, standing up and walking out of the living room, exiting the house as he closes the front door behind him with a slam.

my breathing begins to quicken, my heart rate increasing as the worst possible scenario is suddenly becoming true in front of my eyes. if me finding out that i was pregnant wasn’t enough, tom leaving only placed the cherry on my cake, a sickening sense of guilt now punching me in the gut, stabbing a knife in the wound as i begin to feel nothing but completely stupid for letting this happen, blaming it all on myself. my sobs are muffled within my hands as my head rests there, my entire body trembling as i long to be in his arms, him telling me that it would be okay, that we would get through this. instead, the cold air is my only company, leaving me in it’s icy embrace, giving me the constant reminder that i am alone.

it is this reminder that sticks with me until my eyes begin to feel heavy, my body falling into a deep sleep, providing me with a temporary distraction from reality.

warm hands. two large, warm hands are what wake me from my sleep as they caress my face gently, contrasting with the coldness of the entire house.

“love?” i hear a familiar voice whisper, finally opening my eyes to see tom kneeled beside me, his own bloodshot from crying.

“why are you here?” i ask, anger quickly filling my veins, the reminder of how quickly he left, betrayed me like it was nothing, flooding my memory.

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have left like that. i was just so shocked, and i backed out, and i shouldn’t have. we can talk about this, if you’re ready to.” he softly says as i sit up, moving his hands off my face.

“you left me.” i mutter, the tears already threatening to fall. “i wanted your support, and you left me. you fucking left me when i needed you most! do you know how shitty that feels? all day, i’ve felt guilty, and i find the courage to tell you and then you fucking bail on me?”

“i know and i’m so sorry my love. i didn’t expect it, i reacted in the wrong way-”

“what you think i did expect it? you think i’ve been throwing up for the past two weeks and i wanted it to happen? do you know how hard it’s been to hide my suspicions, because i didn’t want to scare you until i knew for sure, and then you run away because you didn’t expect it? the one time, the one time i fucking need you here and you leave me.” i sob, my voice breaking as i shake my head, standing up and walking away, tom quickly following me to the kitchen where i stand, my front against the counter, head in my hands.

he says nothing, but wraps his arms around my waist from behind, his thumbs running along my stomach comfortingly, lips pressing small kisses on my shoulder as i slowly begin to calm down. we both stand in silence, tom never loosening his hold on me, finally speaking up once my breathing has slowed a little.

“i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry. you didn’t deserve that at all. i promise you, i’ll never leave you like that again, not for a second.” he whispers, turning me around so that my chest is flush against his, his arms securely around my waist.

“why did you do that tom? you have no idea how scared i am.” i say, my words slightly muffled as my head is buried into his t-shirt, my arms clinging onto his neck.

“ i’m so sorry. i’m sorry.” he keeps repeating, kissing my forehead over and over between his words, never once letting go of me.

“what are we going to do?” i sigh, appreciating the fact that we have made up, but knowing that it doesn’t change the situation or make the reality any easier to swallow.

“i don’t know baby, i don’t know. but whatever you decide, i’ll be right here, always. i promise, i’ll always be here.” he affirms, and the sincerity of his voice tells me that i can believe every single one of his words.

“i love you tom.” i say, the words slipping from my mouth naturally as they are the only ones that come to mind.

“i love you too.”

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz angst #tomkaulitz #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tokio hotel

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