#but then i went back to check just to make sure and like

[arlertwhore]

need more paige fics on here it’s criminal atp 💔🥲

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: paige invites her sneaky link to a team dinner, but she has an appetite for you.

warning(s): smut, dom paige, sub reader, more power play, pussy eating (p a munch), fingering, spit kink, mommy kink, nastiest public sex ever.

word count: 3.9k, if i read the estimate right.

author note: unedited - based off a request. ty sm for the love on my first post, it made me feel like writing this 🤍 I check every noti and read every comment!! enjoy, inbox open, yk yk. MINORS DNI

Paige wouldn't confess to it openly, but she knew her feelings for you had underwent a significant adjustment following your whole jersey stunt. She — nicknamed Paige Da Pimp by her teammates for her playboy attitude, was not the type to get smitten for girls, and especially not the ones she had just been hooking up with in a casual sense, but after photographing a memento of you in the jersey post-fuck to keep her sustained for her busy week away of back-to-back games, practices, training... etc, all that athlete jazz, she had come to the agonizing realization that it was the biggest mistake she had ever made. And if there was one thing to note about Paige, she HATED mistakes.

Although she hadn't seen it that way at the time, which was totally understandable since it was just a sexy photo, Paige knew she was acting brainless for what she did. You were cute, fucked well, really turned her on, and she liked you as a hook-up, but she knew better than to genuinely like people, girls, in a serious sense while committed to her career. It'd never work out, and it was something she was very forward about the first time you hooked up. Paige had taught you her many rules, making it clear that she was the one in control due to her media appearance. She expected the feelings aspect to be the other way around but had soon found herself blushing as her team teased her about you relentlessly for being her lock-screen and gawking at a TikTok of you, sharing your daily routine. Sure, Paige knew the lockscreen aspect might've been pushing it, perhaps another misstep, but it was faceless due to her penchant for privacy in your affair, and she used it motivationally for her jampacked week, not as a new means to stay fixated over you.

To the tall blonde, that pictured depicted the prettiest girl in the world wearing her jersey, a visual testament to the hard work and perseverance that had brought Paige to where she was.

So, the photo served as a reminder to keep pushing forward despite how difficult it got. Though Paige surely did like you, she was also very cognitively astute, and knew that whatever feelings she had unfortunately accumulated for you would automatically dismantle due to the demands and stress of her career. She might have panicked over her feelings if you guys had an upcoming visit, but since both of your schedules were full, it became a wait-it-out game where you had both been thinking of each other as you tended to your daily lives. Before her Tuesday game, Paige examined her lockscreen before tossing her phone and running onto court, kissing upwards of the arena, plausibly sending the kiss off into the sky, presuming it would fall wherever you were. The net had tried to decipher the action to no avail. You

were at work and witnessed the moment when it had occurred, so the kiss had been retrospectively received. The cycle repeated each day: you worked, studied on breaks, went to the gym late, then came home, and studied again. The sole reason you were able to remember Paige outside of all else was because you waitressed and they played her games on TV occasionally. It was cruel to think you had some good sex just a few days ago before being forced back to your life. Paige was your only escape and you both didn't have any time in the world to see each other. You couldn't shake the thoughts that with each missed day to spend, because you guys were casual, you were running out of time. Like she was going to leave and find somebody better and more convenient. It was mundane to say the least, but that all changed on Friday night. By the end of the week, Paige soon realized there'd been no point in hiding you from her team. Her fans, the media especially, sure, but you two weren't a secret amongst the knowledge of the team.

Some of them: KK, Azzi, Aubrey, and Ice had even spoken to you and met you three months back at the party, where you first met Paige. You were hammered out of your mind and ranted to them about how much you wanted Paige. They had all discussed how hilarious you were here-and-there after Paige gave you a chance. Paige herself had missed you greatly, so she figured it didn't matter if she invited you to a team dinner.

Her friends were inviting their friends too, and it wouldn't have looked weird if fans or the media noticed. So that's how you found yourself scrambling through your closet at 8 PM, clothes strewn around the room as you searched for your black dress, which was Paige's favorite color on you. You had hurried through your assignments on break at work and left early just to make it there, hating that Paige had sprung this on you randomly.

This is something one would need aforemention for; you had to be more perfect than usual. Hair, makeup, nails, dress, behavior—for crying out loud, you were representing Paige freakin' Bueckers, and that meant you couldn't be tardy or shabby in any aspect. You simply had to be PERFECT. You didn't wanna get replaced by someone more convenient for her, and you knew she had only made this gesture because she missed you: typical Paige wouldn't even consider bringing you to a team dinner, so you thought she was crazy for even offering, knowing this opportunity might not arise again if you didn't show tonight.

As you arrived, you could see the team and some other faces present at the grand table. Thankfully, you did look better than the guests, and even though you were aware, you were still incredibly nervous. Seeing Paige's face, giggling with a teammate sat across from her, was the only thing that kept your high-heeled cladden feet advancing, heart pounding senselessly in your chest. The fullness in the restaurant didn't make you feel better, and with all eyes on you, you felt they knew your secret. You were right: most of them did, and as you reached the grand table, the entire team glanced at you knowingly. The last time you saw them all was at the New Year's party three months ago, before the fact you acted on behalf of Paige. It was majorly awkward now, seeing them sober, knowing you had rambled to all of them, especially KK & Azzi, about how badly you wanted Paige. You being here proved Paige had made your dream come true.

"Get over here, weirdo," Paige called out, and at the sound of her voice, you chuckled, feeling the tension ease. After not touching her, tasting her, holding her—seeing her for what felt like years, you had yearned more than ever to kiss her, to do everything to her that you hadn't had the chance to do in the past week, but due to being in public, all you could do was hug like friends in-case others knew who she was and were recording. It was bumming. You engulfed her in a big hug, smaller arms wrapping around her toned body as you tenderly whispered, "Wanna kiss you so badly. Missed you so much, Peanut Butter."

Paige chuckled softly at your clever play on words, sighing, "I know, I know," as she caressed your upper back, cautious of moving any lower, "Thanks for gettin' it, angel."

You smiled, feigning contentment as you released Paige, mindful that your embrace couldn't linger for too long, lest it provoke any speculation. She kindly helped you remove your dress coat, like a gentleman, and allowed you to sit on the inner side of the booth, assuming her new spot on the outer beside you at your right. To your left was a girl whom KK had invited — she sat sorta close, but far enough at the perfect proximity for Paige, in one very swift movement, to place the coat upon your lap and rest her big hand onto your thigh behind the eyes of everybody else present.

The blonde leaned in, her breath warm against your ear and body pressed flush against yours as she rasped, "As long as they don't see, right?" hand inching up your thigh, her inflection, voice, and touch sending shivers down your spine as she stroked your inner thigh preciously. "Paige!" you growled quietly, "Get a grip—this is unlike you." Paige knew you were right. She was losing her marbles because she liked you so much and couldn't control herself for any longer after having to for an entire week. She needed to have you. It was a blooming sign of her ensuing limerence for you. And she just loved that look in your eye too, all high-strung and panicking at the mere touch of her fingers—it was intoxicating.

You screwed your eyes shut briefly as her middle finger pressed against your clit, lightly; barely moving, edging you. Exhaling deeply, you struggled to get your eyes open, forced to pretend nothing was happening as banter and conversation and laughter flowed around you.

Eventually, you knew you would have to join in, but right now, you were consumed by the sensation of Paige's touch. And when she jested, "Hey," lowly, the sound sent tons of slick oozing out of your wet pussy, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't ignore. Her long, delicate finger teased your little clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout the entirety of your body as you struggled to remain still, quiet, and maintain your composure.

It almost set you off when Paige's foot began to play with yours as she admitted, "I couldn't stop thinking of you all week," in this way of raw carnality and blatant desire you hadn't ever witnessed Paige showcase. It was just pure fucking, usually. A fuck that you didn't have to act totally sexy for all-the-time since it was just a mutual thing. This, whatever Paige was doing tonight, was something very different. Her words — "About how I'd get to touch you, taste you, and how your body would look and how you'd sound. Fuck," she says in a low grunt resemblant of pain. "I can't wait for you again."

Paige stopped briefly, and you didn't know whether to be thankful or upset, groaning out in response. Paige tutted thrice. "You aren't gonna look at me when I'm talking to you?" she chided. "Be a good girl, angel, use your manners so I can give you what you want." You were utterly bewitched by her words. Her touch. Her voice. Her body against yours. Her aura. She was just so captivating. Today, she had foregone her glasses, leaving just her raw, intense eyes to pierce through you. Clad in her post-game attire—a sleek black Nike Tech outfit, her hair styled in the signature front braids and ponytail—you couldn't deny the magnetic pull she had on you. You found yourself afraid to look at her for too long, fearing that the sheer intensity of her presence would send you over the edge. She almost did. You were right. When you looked at her, she smirked at you, locking eyes with you in a gaze that was indescribable. The way she looked at you had changed. "Just like that," she cooed, "Keep your eyes on mommy just like that." You let out a small whine, squishing your legs together to unwaver what felt like a climax. You felt like you were going to explode. Leaning forward, you took a second to recollect yourself as Paige's fingers continued to service you. Around you, the conversation was flowing, and as the head of her team, Paige easily inserted herself into it by introducing you to everybody. "Guys, I want you to meet Y/N L/N, Y/N L/N, the team and friends." Used to celebrating excessively, they all clapped for you, and Paige tapped your side with her free hand, urging you to sit up and be polite. You waved to everyone, adorning a smile that had taken every morsel of energy within you to present. "Long time no see, huh?" KK instantly began, "Let's hope you don't drink too much tonight and spill any secrets about how much you want Paige." Laughter filled the air, including yours. Relaxing against the booth, you tilted your head back, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as Paige's fingers began to intrude your entrance, their movements smooth and tantalizing, causing you to clench around them. "Don't gotta be lit to tell you, K," you giggled, diverting your attention to the conversation that had just begun, while also trying to ignore Paige's relentless fingers.

You just didn't know how she could do it so seamlessly -- her beautiful big blue eyes had managed to look utterly focused, absorbed in KK's story as if she hadn't been scissoring you open with purpose in each fervent stroke of her fingers into you. A contented grin was fixed on her face, seemingly listening to KK's recount of the first time she met you intently, but that was not the case whatsoever, and you two were the only ones aware. Paige rested her head upon your shoulder, her left arm hooking around your waist to grab her Shirley Temple, to take a sip.

She raised the glass, offering you a sip, and you disguised a moan in a hum when she began a come-hither motion against your g - spot, savoring the cold drink to assist in cooling down your rising body temperature. "You like that?" she asked, early not referring to the drink. Her tone was cunning, smirk suggesting she knew the effect she was having on you.

You managed a smile, maintaining your composure. "Mhm. I like it." you uttered, your voice resonating with an underlying force, each word carrying the weight of your struggle to sound controlled.

Thankfully, Azzi had interjected KK's story, prolonging it, and you anticipated that Azzi's sociable nature would keep you from speaking for a while longer. However, just as you expected the social buffer, a waiter approached for your order. Being a waiter yourself, you understood why she was there, and you blurted out, "Water," upon her arrival, eager for her to leave as quickly as possible. Fuck! you thought, That seemed bitchy. You resolved to tip her later to make up for it, but you couldn't have cared less in the moment. Your head was spinning; Paige's ring finger had begun to circle your clit precisely, at a steady pace, in a touch and speed you couldn't replicate no matter how hard you tried. Her middle finger had been gathering your wetness and smoothing it over your clit, intensifying the sensation, intensifying the situation.

"So then, besides this intro story, Y/N, why don't you tell us about yourself? You know, the real you?" Paige prodded, her tone laced with subtle encouragement, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes as she attempted to coax you into speaking. "U-uh," you stammered, clearing your throat, "studying at UConn." It's a line you're programmed to say regularly, especially at work when dumb college goons try to hit on you.

The prompt silence urged you to continue speaking, but you wanted to curl up and pretend to be asleep. Your hole clenched around nothing, and you tried to avoid looking at Paige, fearing you might cum on the spot like you nearly had earlier. Gathering your strength, you said, "I'm studying to become a nurse. I'm from the city just over, but I'm, uh, you know... just an average girl."

You, being at a dinner and getting finger-fucked wasn't just stuff average girls did.

Nothing was average about this dinner experience. Not even the amount of wetness you had accumulated, which had become so much that it began to trickle down your leg. To have the amount of need you were suppressing literally oozing out of you, you moan, an audible one, but mask it as a cough before raising Paige's drink to your lips, taking a sip, and then placing it down. You could hear Paige laugh hushedly from your side, relishing in the power dynamic. "My throat's so dry," you quickly add to compensate for the odd noise, hoping to divert attention away from your unintentional reaction. "Did the questionin' make you nervous?" KK teased yet again, her tone playful as she pointed out, "You're breaking a little sweat."

You wanted to jump for joy. Finally, you had an excuse to excuse yourself. "Oh no, am I?" you replied, trying to hide your relief. "Lemme go make sure my makeup's good, P."

Forced to stand before you could exit, Paige did, and as you rose to your feet, she made sure you saw the image of her fingers in her mouth, sucking your wetness off them.

This, combined with all you had just endured got you weak in the knees as you stood up and made your way out. The sensation of her touch lingered, leaving you feeling so worked up that you felt like you were going to implode.

You weren't even wearing any makeup. You rarely did outside of work. Inside of the bathroom, feeling rather empty, you briefly considered touching yourself but rendered that option pointless seeing as you wouldn't be able to satisfy yourself how Paige did you. You also always failed to replicate it too. Instead, to cool down your body and thoughts, you resorted to flushing your face with cold water. By the time you finished, Paige had appeared in the doorframe behind you, nearly as tall as it was.

"You got sick, I had to take you home, here's your coat," she said, recounting the tale you'd explain for leaving early, flinging the coat at you with a brisk motion, one of an athlete.

You caught it, but urgency pulsed through you. If she wanted to test you, you would test her. High heels clacking as you strode over to the taller blonde, you pressed her against the bathroom door, your kiss fueled by an intense need. The taste of yourself on her tongue drove you crazy and you couldn't deny how intoxicating it was. Her knee was nestled between your legs, and she pulled back to rain kisses down your neck, her voice filled with fervor as she questioned, "Why the hell aren't you wearing panties, hm?" In a rush, but with purpose, you responded, "Can't you see I'm dressed exactly how you like, P? It's all part of the plan."

She picked you up, your body clinging to hers as she placed you on the counter of the sinks. You made out fervently, her strong body no longer pressed against the door, leaving you both vulnerable to potential intruders. This was dangerous, extremely so. Paige kept letting you take dominance, even if it wasn't as blatant as her own, and it was exhilarating. When you placed your legs upon the counter, high heels on, your tits dropping below your dress with your pussy on display, clenching and unclenching as you pleaded, "I want your mouth," Paige couldn't resist. As she dropped to her knees, she reasoned that she was already in too deep to back out. The vodka in her Shirley Temple convinced her it was fine too, and fuck, it felt beyond fine. Her eyes remained locked with yours as she began by licking your hole, teasing the tip of her tongue inside before traveling up to your clit, prodding at it expertly.

"You taste so good," Paige murmured against your clit, sucking it.

"How would all your good-girl Uni friends feel if they saw you like this, hm? Legs spread like the slut you are, begging for my mouth."

Paige was losing control. She was spiraling. You looked too slutty, too good, and the situation was too risky for her not to take a picture of this. Removing her phone from her pocket, she handed it to you, and you already knew what to do.

You eagerly begin a video recording of Paige devouring you, capturing every salacious moment with fervor. Her mouth and tongue work tirelessly, exploring every inch of your dripping sex, her fingers sliding effortlessly into you, curling and stroking in the harmony with her oral ministrations. You moan uncontrollably, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your body. As Paige's tongue dances over your clit and her fingers plunge deeper, you writhe and squirm on the counter, unable to contain the ecstasy building within you.

The sensations are overwhelming, driving you to the brink of madness as you teeter on the edge of blissful oblivion. "Film yourself," Paige murmurs against your pussy, and you obediently turn the camera toward your face and heaving chest. The lens captures your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, and the dazed look of ecstasy in your eyes as you surrender to the euphoria of Paige's mouth and fingers.

"M'gonna cum, baby," you whine, bucking your hips with a primal urgency against her face, desperate for release. "Yes, yes, please," you whimper, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pressure builds to an unbearable peak. "I need it, Paige, I need to cum." As the climax washes over you like a tidal wave, you cling to Paige's head, holding her against your pussy as your body convulses with the force of your release.

With a satisfied smile, Paige grabs a paper towel and tends to you, then looks up to the camera from her knees, tongue teasingly licking off the remnants of your arousal. You hastily rearrange your clothes, staying put on the counter as Paige rises from between your legs to place her lips against yours. Paige's lips kiss with tender urgency that feels like unspoken intimacy and connection. As her mouth melds with yours, you feel the lingering heat of desire between you guys. In that fleeting embrace, there's a sense of vulnerability and trust, as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the electrifying sensation of her lips against yours. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a silent reassurance that you're in this together, navigating the waves of need and indulgence as one.

But then again, you're recording, so the moment, while still undeniably sexy, lacks the sweetness of intimacy. Paige takes the phone from your hand, filming as she guides you off the counter by your hand, only to drop it suddenly, spinning you around and pressing you against the cool surface. With her lap pressed against your ass, she asserts control, her hand firmly guiding your hips as she captures the action in the mirror.

As you grind back against her, you breathe out softly, "We're defiling this place, P," your voice laden with desire.

She responds in kind, her voice husky with arousal. "You're right, angel. Come on." With a firm grip on your hair, she pulls you back up until you're tilting your head to meet her gaze. Without hesitation, she delivers a fast, open-mouthed kiss that feels less intimate this time, followed by a daring act of dominance. She spits into your mouth, and you swallow, the act captured on camera for all to see.

With a shared glance, you rearrange yourselves, a tacit acknowledgment passing between you as you hastily fix your appearance. The urgency to flee the restaurant is palpable, both of you acutely aware of the need to escape before anyone catches wind of the steamy encounter that just unfolded in plain sight.

#pussyeatinggggg #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x fem reader #paige x oc #smut bueckers #paige bueckers smut #bueckersxfemreader #paige bueckers #smut #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn vs iowa #iowa wbb #wbb #march madness #ncaa tournament #paige buckets #Paige #paige x reader #wlw post #wlw smut #pb #paigexfemreader #uconn women’s basketball #smutwccb #paigebueckersfluff #18+

[ashhh-14]

"Why's there only one bed?!"

part 2

Part 1

Featuring - Dan heng, Gepard, Jing yuan & Blade

Info- '......' meaning short timeskip

A/n- yes I'm not dead pfft. The idea was given by @tigerpriestess when i posted the first piece, i started writing this one when i read the suggestion cuz it was intriguing but my writer's block hit like a truck so yeahhh, finally here's the part 2. Happy reading!

Dated : April 15, 2024

It's been a week since Dan Heng's brain was in a frenzy. The night you two shared one bed together, how you held his hand, your soft skin against his cheek, how you kept him company when he was restless. But... Why are you acting like nothing even happened from the very next morning? Was he overthinking everything? Was that night's events a mere act of care and nothing more?

You poured yourself a cup of coffee, sleep evident in your actions since you didn't wake up too long ago. Turning around to head back to your room, you bumped into something firm. You stumbled back a little, only for an arm to wrap around your waist preventing your fall. You looked up, eyes coming in contact with those beautiful orbs you love looking into, "Dan Heng?" You were unable to read his face as your breath hitched at his intense stare, his feet moving forward, backing you up against the counter as you found yourself in an inescapable position," What-What's wrong?" He started leaning closer, the grip you had against the mug slowly loosening the more he leaned in.

"Why are you acting like nothing happened?" A confused expression took over your features as you looked up at him, only making you two even closer, barely an inch of space separating you two.

"Tell me (Y/n). Was what you did that night, was it really just out of care? Do you really not feel anything for me? For us?" His expression remained unchanged but on the inside, he was anxious. Anxious on what you'd say, anxious that he'd lose you to this situation, to these feelings. Your breath halted, mind processing his words. Does that mean he feels...? You thought he was a man incapable of these feelings, always wanting to stay closed off from the world then....

"I do, I feel a lot more for you than you can imagine." Your voice was only able to come out as a whisper as you saw his eyes light up, his arms pulling you closer against him as the mug slipped off your hand, crashing against the floor but that didn't stop him from leaning closer, your lips about to graze each other when, "How dare you two break pom pom's favourite mug!!"

Your eyes scanning the fabric of clothing from a new shop opened in Belobog, heavy footsteps entering the shop took your attention away.

'Oh no it's him again.'

As quickly as you can, you paid for the stuff you've already selected and scurried out the shop. Your hurried actions not going unnoticed by the captain of silvermane guards. 'Tenth time now this month.' His jaw clenched.

............

You made your way to the front door of your house as you heard the bell ring, peeping into the peephole to check who it was, you lightly gasped to yourself as you saw the captain of Silvermane guards. Your mind scrambled on what to do as voice from the other end of the door spoke.

"Don't even try this time. I'm not leaving until I talk to you."

You bit your lip in contemplation, releasing a deep sigh as you twisted your wrist, opening the door. You didn't dare meet his eyes as you walked inside, hearing the front door click shut behind you.

"Do you want some water?" You spoke aimlessly in a futile attempt to reduce his stare on you. Moving along the kitchen island you went to grab a bottle of water when you found yourself trapped inbetween the counter and a firm Chest. The hand that was stretched outward for the water came back infront of you, two much larger hands intertwining with back of yours and pressing both of them on the counter as if to make sure you won't run away again.

"Gepard..." Your voice came out meekly. You knew what this was about. You exactly knew but you didn't want to address it. It would ruin a lot of things, and you weren't willing to risk that.

"Why're you doing this?" Gepard's voice came out as a mere whisper, as if all the resolve from earlier broke. Releasing one of your hands he circled it around your waist, pulling you against him tight. As if it was a way of reminding both you and him why exactly was he here. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"Why do you keep avoiding me? Why are you so adamant on running away and not give us a chance to even talk about it."

You closed your eyes releasing a soft sigh. "There's really no point in talking about that Gep. It's futile. Plus you're my bestfriend's-"

"God woman she knows that I like you." Your breath got caught in your throat as you let his words sink in. "What..."

If it was possible, he pressed you even more against himself, nodding against your shoulder. "So will you just stop running away?" His voice had a certain edge to it that you couldn't quite pin point.

You looked back over your shoulder just as he leaned down, his lips pressing against the corner of yours.

"When are you planning on talking to him?" Asked Lady Fu as she stirred sugar into her tea cup.

The divination commission's weather was pleasant today. A gentle breeze soothing the skin but it did nothing to soothe your aching heart.

"I honestly don't know" you said, distracted by how the birds are flying overhead.

"You'll have to talk to him eventually. You can't keep on avoiding him. He might look aloof but he noticed it the very first time you sent another cloudknight to give him the reports which you usually do yourself." She took a sip of her tea.

"I'm just trying to delay it as much as I can. I can't find it in me to face it just yet." You sighed.

...........

"Long time no see Admiral" A soft yet firm voice spoke, head tilting sideways to look at you.

"Yes General." You nodded in agreement, climbing the stairs up to his chair, placing the stack of papers in front of him from the recent report on the stelleron.

"So...Was there any particular reason you asked of me today?" You stated slowly, trying to scan his face for what he's thinking but you should have known better.

His laugh echoed through the room, making your heart flutter. "I just wish to catch up. It's almost break. Mind joining me for a walk?"

.......

Cutting the walk short as Jing yuan took a seat beneath a tree, you stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "General?"

He chuckled.

"This is usually my nap time, forgive me for the tardiness. Why don't you join? I assure I won't be keeping you long." His voice spoke, extending a hand towards you.

You looked at it a little hesitant. You remember the last time you let him get too close to you. You're still having a hard time trying to forget those memories.

You took it after a moment of contemplation, stepping a foot forward when the world spun and you found yourself on Jing yuan's lap.

Your eyes widened a fraction, looking up at the said man as he slipped an arm around your waist. His other hand came up to trace your face as he stared intently in your eyes. Not able to take his gaze any longer you looked away.

Your name fell from his lips like a symphony and you found yourself looking at him again, your heart having a hard time assessing the situation as you placed a cautious hand to his chest, as if to create some sort of space between you two.

"There's no reason for you to run away." His tone dropping a note softer, his thumb traced over your bottom lip.

Your breath shuddered and you risked whispering "Please don't give me false hope."

"I'm not." Was all he said before he bent down and placed his lips against yours.

It was just another night as you strolled the streets of Luofu. The wind was nice today, you thought as you suddenly felt a presence behind you. You didn't need to look back to see who it was. "Done with the work already Blade?" You mused looking up at the said male from corner of your eye as he fell in step beside you.

"Well what do you think smartass?" He said with a raised eyebrow, a smirk threatening to break on his lips.

"A simple 'yes' would have been much more appreciated." Turning your face, you narrowed your eyes at him.

With that you both took off in a run, jumping off the ridge and down into the abyss as you were pulled against blade. "Can't have you hurting now can we?"

.........

You sucked in a sharp breath as Blade tightened up the bandage around your arm.

"Why the hell did you go on the mission that was assigned to both of us." It was more of a statement than a question as you scanned his features while his eyes were fixated on wrapping up your wounds.

"I needed to clear my head" And that was enough for him to snap his gaze up towards you, his jaw clenching further as if challenging you to saying something more.

It was partially the truth. You wanted to clear your head, but you omitted the part that you wanted to clear your hear off him. The light-hearted banter you both rejoiced in usually has been turning your heart ablaze recently, and you were certainly not going to let it do that.

In the next instant you found yourself sprawled against the bed, your back hitting it with a soft thud as you found Blade on top of you. "Do not test my patience." His voice was low and threatening as you averted your gaze, brows furrowing as your eyes fell on the chain encircling his neck. You reached a hand up, tracing the silver chain as you felt the engraved words around your finger tips.

He made no movements to push you away as you hesitantly looked at him. To any other it would have looked like Blade's normal poker face but you knew better.

Propping yourself up on one elbow the other pulled him down as you crashed your lips against his.

Him wearing your name was all you needed to know.

Masterlist

Written by yours truly

#x reader #fluff #hsr blade x reader #hsr x reader smut #hsr fluff #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr #honkai fluff #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng #hsr blade #hsr jing yuan #hsr gepard #honkai jing yuan #jing yuan #jing yuan smut #gepard smut #honkai gepard #gepard landau #honkai star rail gepard #gepard #hsr dan heng #dan heng smut

[justagalwhowrites]

Undone

After a stressful week at the office, Joel knows just how to take care of his wife. AKA Joel Miller doms the stress out of you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: No Outbreak AU. Established relationship, husband and wife. Dom!Joel x Sub!Reader (light). Tiny little age gap (like 5 years? I'm picturing Joel at 44 and reader at 39?) Unprotected P in V sex. Oral sex, F receiving. Creampie. Overstimulation. Aftercare.

Length: 5.4k

A/N: This is totally self indulgent. It's also like... entirely smut. Sorry. But not really. OK love you bye!

Joel knew what you were after the minute you kicked the door closed. 

It was Friday and it had been a hell of a week for you. Joel had done his best to support you through it - he’d finished up one big job on Tuesday and didn’t start the next one until Monday - so he’d taken the lead on keeping the household running while you put in extra hours and came home frustrated and exhausted every night. 

He knew it wasn’t going to magically be better just because it was Friday, so he’d spent the day trying to make the end to your work week as good as he could. He went to the HEB and got your favorite snacks, picked out flowers for the kitchen table, even went by the liquor store on the way home to get everything you’d need to unwind at the end of your day. He started smoking ribs early that afternoon and was outside to sauce them when he heard the door slam behind you. 

Joel didn’t need to see what happened, he knew from the sound that you’d thrown the door open and then kicked it shut behind you. He’d bet the check from his next job that you’d be face down on the couch, your shoes and briefcase a little trail from the front door to the living room. He shook his head, taking a swig of Shiner before closing the smoker and heading inside to find his wife. 

You were exactly where he thought you’d be, taking up almost the entire length of the couch, flat on your stomach, blazer still on but your heels and bags scattered between you and the front door. 

“Aw baby,” he said sympathetically. “That great a day, hm?” 

You made a sound that was caught somewhere between a grunt and a groan. 

“Want to talk about it?” 

You made the sound again and Joel tried not to laugh at it. 

“Here,” he said, coming and adjusting your legs so he could sit beside you on the couch. You groaned as he did but he guided you from lying on your stomach to sitting up to leaning on him, your face in his chest. He put his arm around you and gave you a squeeze. “Tell me what melted down.” 

“We have our quarterly earnings release going out in less than two weeks,” you sighed. “And it’s a shit show. Legal’s been reviewing that shit for what feels like an eternity and I need to issue the goddamn release announcing the date of the full release but I can’t do that until I actually know that legal and financial are going to have stuff sorted in time and the CEO has emailed me twice a day about it the whole week because sure, the legal team definitely falls under my department…” 

Joel held the still mostly full bottle of beer in front of you and you took it from him, your fingers brushing his and you were quiet for a moment as you took a sip before handing it back. 

“Also, HR is going to be the death of me,” you continued, on a tear now. “I swear, it shouldn’t be that hard to find a qualified entry level candidate but here we are, still short staffed 10 weeks after I got the OK to hire. They’ve sent me two resumes, Joel. Two. I called them today to ask how many they’d received and they’ve had 226 candidates apply and they’ve sent me fucking two! I refuse to believe that just one percent of applicants were remotely qualified so I asked them to forward me all the applications since, apparently, recruiting can’t do their damn jobs so I’m going to have to do it for them…” 

Joel nodded along, handing you the beer periodically when he felt you getting too worked up. He found himself, not for the first time, awed by what you did for a living. He didn’t understand much of it, really, and he was thankful he didn’t need to. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit. You, on the other hand, had jumped in with both feet when you’d started at your company seven years ago when the two of you had just started dating, You’d risen up the ranks quickly and you now had a team of several dozen people reporting up to you. As gentle and sweet as Joel knew you to be at your core, he knew you were also unflinchingly driven at work. During the COVID shut down, he’d gotten a glimpse of it, listening to you take people - mostly men who seemed to think you weren’t as capable as you clearly were - to task and get things done. He was eternally grateful that, when the two of you fought, you didn’t take him down the way you did people who crossed you in the office. Though that stood in sharp contrast to how Joel heard you talk to the people who reported up to you, with you seemingly always happy to lend an ear or provide guidance or take the heat if they fucked something up that was going outside your department. 

Unfortunately, that meant you had weeks like this one, where plenty went wrong and you had no one to pass the buck to. And he knew as well as you did that you wouldn’t just let something fall apart, not if there was a damn thing you could do about it. Even if that meant working yourself into the ground. 

After a while you just deflated against him and he handed you the beer again. You took a long drink, emptying the bottle, and Joel took it from you to set on the side table. 

“Feelin’ better?” He asked, his nose brushing your hair. 

“Kind of,” you sighed, pressing yourself closer to him. 

“Somethin’ more I can do?” He asked, trying to make sure that he wasn’t nudging you in the direction he was hoping this would go. 

“Yeah,” you said, something shifting in your tone when you said it. No longer frustrated and fed up, instead needy and wanting. You sat up from him and looked at him through your eyelashes, practically pouting. “Turn my brain off for a bit?” 

Joel’s heart picked up, heat and tension already gathering low in him. 

“Aw, my baby need me to fuck her stupid?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face in his hand. His thumb traced along the arch of your cheekbone as his eyes locked on your blown pupils. “You need me to make that big brain of yours slow down for a while, that it?” 

“Yes please,” you breathed. He could feel your skin getting warmer below his touch. 

“Please what?” 

“Please sir,” you said, holding your hands up with your wrists together, like an offering. “Please fuck me stupid. Please sir.” 

He quirked his jaw before he smiled, dark and low.

“Good girl,” he growled. He got up and closed his large hands around your wrists before pulling you sharply to your feet, looking you up and down as he did. There was something that drove him wild, seeing you like this. Dressed in your armor of the business world, a place where lesser men had to go to you for permission to do a goddamn thing, and you came home to him, begging him to strip you down to something small and vulnerable and easily consumed. 

He wasn’t sure why you’d picked him of all people. When you’d met almost eight years earlier, his first thought was that you were way out of his fucking league. A friend of Tommy’s then girlfriend now wife, you were a few years younger than him but had clearly kept your life on the right fucking track the whole time instead of driving it into the ground for a while first. You’d gone to college, built a damn impressive career, had goals and dreams and plans for yourself. You were beautiful and smart and funny and kind and the first time he’d taken your clothes off he was still not entirely sure why you were letting him do it. 

He’d been even more surprised the first time you’d shared with him that you wanted him to take control in the way he was now. 

“I just have to make decisions all the time,” you’d said, folded into a corner of his couch with a glass of wine in your hands. “I just really want to have someone else take over for a while, you know? Not have to make any plans or take care of anybody else, just enjoy and be enjoyed.” 

That, Joel had thought, he could give you. 

It wasn’t something the two of you always indulged in but there were days like this one where you seemed to crave it. Maybe even a step beyond that - you needed it. You needed the safety of Joel’s guidance, the comfort of his control, the ease of his pleasure. He liked to give you those things. More than liked it, sometimes he lived for it. 

Today was one of those days. 

He led you to the bedroom and stood you at the foot of the bed, your wrists still firmly in his hands as his eyes searched yours. 

“You just want to be my little doll, is that it?” He asked, his thumbs brushing the inside of your wrists. Your pulse was heavy and hard. “Want me to take control so all you have to do is feel what I let you feel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir,” you were practically squirming. 

“What are your colors,” he said more than asked. 

“Green, yellow, red,” you answered quickly. 

“Where are you now?” 

“Green.” 

“Good girl,” he guided your hands so they hung at your sides. “Don’t move until I tell you.” 

He watched you resist the urge to nod and he slipped his hands below the lapels of your jacket, running his hands over your skin for a moment before shoving the sleeves down your arms and leaving the blazer in a pile on the floor. He watched you swallow, your throat working and he tried not to think about making you kneel and taking his cock into that pretty throat of yours. He knew just how good it would feel while you sucked him, how fucking good it would feel to come down your throat. 

Maybe later. Right now, he needed to take care of you. And that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

*** 

When Joel touched you like this, it was like something unspooled inside yourself. There had been a knot in your stomach for days at least - maybe longer - and nothing had worked to untangle it. Not crossing things off your to do list at the office, not the yoga class you’d skipped lunch to take, not the iced latte your assistant had ducked out to grab you that afternoon. But Joel’s hands on your skin as they slipped the slender straps of your satin top down your arms were better than anything else, especially when your mind wasn’t going a mile a minute thinking of ways to please him in return. You watched as he moved to undress you, his eyes heavy and hot and hungry as your top pooled around your hips. He reached around your body to unhook your bra, casting it aside before cupping your breasts in his large palms, groaning as he did. 

“You feel so good,” his thumbs brushed your nipples. “My soft, pretty fuckin’ girl.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. He’d told you to stay still and you had to obey. If you didn’t, you knew he’d drag out your first orgasm for what felt like an eternity, bringing you just to the edge of it but never letting you fall into your climax until you were a desperate, dripping, squirming mess. 

“What, baby?” He almost cooed at you, just a hint of a teasing edge to his tone. “What’s my baby need?” 

“More,” you whined. “I need more, please, I need…” 

He took his hands off you then and looked you in the eye and you almost reached for him before you caught yourself. 

“Who decides what you need right now,” he said. You moaned and he ignored you. “Who. Tell me, pretty girl.” 

“You,” you said. 

“That’s right,” he nodded. “And I’ll give you more when I decide you need more and I decide I’m done enjoyin’ the parts of you I’m enjoyin’ right now. So. You stand still like a good little doll and we’ll see when I’ll let you have more. Got it?” 

“Yes,” you said. 

He took your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye. 

“Yes what.” 

“Yes sir.” 

His crooked smile dimpled his cheek. 

“Good girl.” 

He returned to touching you, running his large and callused hands over your shoulders to your chest, holding and massaging your breasts and you could tell he was taking his time less for himself and more because he knew what it was doing to you. That it was making you achy and desperate and the thoughts that had been weighing on you all day at the office were slipping out of your mind, drifting far away into the ether. 

“Think I remember you sayin’ something about more?” Joel said, his voice low and gravelly as his hand slipped over your stomach, below the bunched fabric of your shirt, below the waistband of your pants until his fingertips were brushing your bare mound inside your panties. You whimpered. “How about I give you some more, hm?” 

His index finger reached out and brushed the top of your clit, sending a shiver through you, all the heat you had inside yourself pooling low in your stomach. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Think she likes it.” 

He pressed a little lower, a little firmer, working your sensitive nub in slow, languid circles. 

“She like this too?” 

You nodded frantically. 

“Thought I told you not to move,” Joel said, stern. 

“But…” 

“No buts,” he cut you off. “You wanted to give me control so you give me control. Otherwise, you won’t get what you want. Got it?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“You’re lucky,” he said as he went to open your pants. “Got me all worked up, too. Too worked up to draw this out the way you deserve, squirmin’ the way you are.” 

He got on his knees in front of you and gathered the fabric of your shirt, pants and underwear in his hands and pulled them all down in one go, the sudden exposure of your skin to the air making you gasp and goosebumps scatter over you in sharp little pin pricks. 

“Fuck, there you are,” he groaned, his hands coming to grip the thick swell of your ass, his fingers digging into the meat of you as he pressed a kiss to your stomach just below your belly button. You moaned, wanting nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his curls. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms, acutely aware of where he was touching you because of the absence of him everywhere else. 

He trailed his mouth down to your slit, his tongue dipping into you there, brushing against your clit, the heat of his mouth in sharp contrast to the cold air against your wetness. His hands slipped up your back, finding your waist before Joel stood, his still clothed body so close to your naked one. 

“Lie down for me,” he said, a little breathless. “Middle of the bed.” 

You rushed to obey and watched hungrily as Joel undressed himself, his black t-shirt coming up and over his head, his jeans opening to reveal his tight boxer briefs with his thick, hard cock straining the fabric. He took off everything before crawling up the bed over you and, for half a moment, you thought he really was going to give into you that quickly, give you exactly what you wanted that fast. But instead of settling between your thighs with his heavy length brushing against your slit and his mouth on yours, he fell to the side of you, the weight of him jostling the mattress. You turned your head to look at him, confused, and he laughed, dark and low. 

“You didn’t think you were gonna make me give in that fast, did you?” He asked. He slid one arm below your ribs, his hand coming up and around the back of you to hold your breast while his other hand teased a feather light path down from your throat, over your chest, your stomach to your slit. “No, not done with this yet.” 

“But…” 

“You just lie still and let me worship you,” he said, his palm cupping your mound, his middle finger settling between your lower lips as he put gentle pressure against your clit. The tip of his finger circled your dripping entrance but didn’t slip inside where you were aching and desperate for him. “Want to enjoy you for a while.” 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, his mouth finding just the right spot on your throat at the same moment he added pressure to your clit, grinding his hand against your most tender place and making your back arch below his touch. 

Joel kissed and licked and sucked along your neck, your collarbone, your breast, his cock brushing against your thigh as he manipulated your body and you could feel his precome on your skin when it did and you were desperate to touch him there, to feel just how hard you’d made him, make him start to unravel the way he was doing to you. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, a finger sliding inside of you, making you groan. 

“But I want…” 

He pulled back from you to look in your eyes and you could tell from the glassy look on his face that you probably already looked like a fucked out mess. 

“You tryin’ to make me feel good or you want it for yourself?” He asked, brows raised. You tried to find the words but couldn’t. He nodded. “S’what I thought, you sit still like I fuckin’ told you. You try to touch me and I won’t let you come, got it? This is about you, not me so you’re gonna lay there and take it, understand?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

He went back to working you over, adjusting so that he could fully kiss down your body until his head was between your thighs, two fingers buried inside of you as he looked up your body to your face. 

“New rules,” he said, pressing his lips to your clit for a moment and sucking it into his mouth before continuing. “Want you to come and I want you to come hard. You’re allowed to touch my head to put me where you need but you do anything else with those hands and we’re startin’ over. Understood?” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

He practically dove into your pussy, his thumb working your clit, his tongue licking deep into your channel. The fire in your belly burned brighter and it was like you could feel all the blood in your body pulling into the center of you. Your hands flew to his head, the thick of his hair and the heat of his scalp almost sharp against your fingers after having felt nothing but your own palms for what felt like forever. You rocked your hips against his face as he ate at you, a finger slipping into you alongside his tongue, working the inside of you deftly so that you were never empty but never lacking the friction of him moving in you. His fingertip curled into the soft, sensitive place inside of you that he found so easily now, adding the perfect amount of pressure as his thumb and nose worked your clit and you felt your pussy get so tight and hot you worried, for half a second, that it would hurt him before every worry flew out of your head entirely, your entire body flooded with waves of pleasure as you came on his tongue. 

Joel worked you through your orgasm, never letting up as you moaned and panted, your grip on his hair easing as your body started to go limp. Your pussy was so sensitive when your climax eased but Joel didn’t pay your little whimpers any mind. He pulled his mouth from you but added another finger, fucking into you with his hand and adjusting so his palm was grinding against your clit as he did. 

“There you go,” he panted, wiping your slick from his mouth before taking his cock in his hand and working himself with it. “That what you needed, pretty girl?” 

“Yes sir,” you whimpered. 

“Good,” he said, his eyes ranging over you, dark and hot. “Because now it’s my turn.” 

He pulled his fingers from you and spread your thighs a little wider, lining his cock up with your still weakly grasping hole for half a moment before thrusting deep into you in one devastating go. You gasped at the stretch of him filling you like that, the inside of you still soft and tender from your orgasm. Your fingers scrambled at the blanket below you, your back arched and taut and you tried to hold onto something - anything - in your head beside how he was splitting you open. 

“I say you could use your hands like that?” He asked, his fingers finding your wrists and clamping around them. He pressed deep inside you and folded over you, bringing your hands with him, pressing your wrists down into the mattress over your head. “Didn’t think so. You’re my little doll right now, ain’t you? Mine to do what I want with and I want you to take it.” 

“Joel,” you whimpered. 

“That ain’t my name right now, is it?” 

“Sir,” you corrected, resisting the urge to rock your hips up against him. “Please!” 

“Please what?” 

You couldn’t put words to what you wanted to ask for and Joel just smirked before releasing your wrists and sitting up, looking down over your body to where he disappeared inside of it. 

“What I thought,” he said, his hands pressing your thighs wide before his thumb trailed over where you were split open on him to your clit, teasing you in a slow circle that made you jerk involuntarily below him. He took it away, his hand on the soft flesh of your thigh again. “You leave those hands there and take it. You can take it, pretty girl. Know you can.” 

With that, he pulled back, slow and aching, before fucking back into you, hard and fast with a forceful grunt. You watched him fuck you, his cock slamming into you with enough force that it jerked your body up and down the bed. You were lost in it, the way you could see his muscles flex, the way his eyes ranged over you - watching the place he was spreading you open and the way your tits bounced for him and up to your face to meet your eyes and back again. It was almost hypnotic, like there was nothing else in the world that existed outside of him. He was controlling you totally, fucking into you with enough force that you couldn’t even breathe out of sync with his thrusts, your body just something he could manipulate and pleasure and use however he saw fit. 

You weren’t sure how long he fucked you like that before his hands ran over your thighs to your core, his thumbs brushing along your clit, pressing into you there and working you in hard little circles as your channel started to tighten around him again. 

“There we go,” he panted. “Got another one right there don’t you? You’re gonna give it to me, aren’t you pretty girl. Gonna give me everything, ain’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you whined, your fingernails digging into your palms as you fought to keep your hands still. 

“Good girl,” he pressed himself deep as he worked your clit and returned to his same punishing rhythm, the head of him finding the place inside you he’d claimed for himself. He left one thumb on your clit, his other hand stretching up and over your stomach, fingers splaying wide on you until it was in the middle of your chest where you knew he could feel how your heart was pounding behind your ribs. The feel of him everywhere was overwhelming, the tight spool of pleasure that had never fully relaxed after your first orgasm already wound unbearably tight again. 

“Want you to come for me,” he said, voice needy. “Want you to be a good girl and come. Give it all to me, baby, want you to just let go and give it all to me, let it all go, c’mon and come for me, make me fuckin’ feel it…” 

You cried out as you obeyed, your channel fluttering over his cock as he kept fucking you deep and hard. You could feel your orgasm in the very center of you, in every muscle and every nerve, your climax taking hold of you so firmly that you felt a gush of liquid rush out of you. 

“Fuck, there you go,” he said, not letting up. “Fuck baby, love when you squirt for me, such a good fuckin’ girl…” 

The wet snap of his hips into you was obscene and, as your orgasm eased, your body was already drawing tight again. Your heart raced and you could feel everything, everything, so sharp and harsh and overwhelming. Your head swam, your skin prickled. 

“Love feeling you come for me,” Joel was still fucking into you, hard and bruising like he was trying to climb inside your skin and claim a place for himself there. “Love when you get all tight and desperate, love making you all needy…” 

You let out a fucked out little whimper, tears pricking at your eyes, not able to see straight through the haze of your already building orgasm. Joel leaned over you, his cock buried deep but going still. 

“You with me, pretty girl?” He asked, his hands sliding up your arms to find your wrists, holding you gently in place. You couldn’t seem to find the words to answer, too overstimulated to think of anything beyond how he was filling you and surrounding you. “Gimme a color, baby.” 

“Yellow,” you managed. 

 He took your limp wrists in his large palms and guided your hands to his skin, resting them on his broad shoulders. 

“That help?” He asked. “You can nod.” 

You nodded quickly, your breathing evening out, body still tight and strung out. 

“Color?” 

“Green,” you said, the tears that were in your eyes slipping down your cheeks but not being replaced by new ones. 

“Good,” he shifted inside you, pulling back a little before thrusting in again. “Because I ain’t done with you yet. You keep those hands right where I put ‘em and just focus on coming one more time for me, need you to milk me dry, baby.” 

But his pace eased, less frantic and more desperate, working you slow and firm from within. He buried his face into your neck, his mouth finding that place that sent shocks of pleasure through your whole body. His hands ranged over you, fingers hungry and grasping at your skin, his hips working against your clit as his cock found its home deep within you. 

“Know you’re close,” he said against your skin, lips still close enough to brush against you as he spoke. He kissed along your neck, nose teasing along your throat. “You got one more in you, baby, I know you do.” 

“Sir,” you whimpered, pleading, not sure if you wanted to come or wanted to just dissolve. 

“You can come,” he fucked you slow and deep. His public bone pressed against your clit and your back arched. “Want you to come, want to feel you come. Make me feel you, baby. Be a good girl and make me feel you.” 

You dared to let yourself move, just enough that you could rock your hips up against him, working yourself with his body as you felt him grow impossibly thicker and harder inside you. Or, maybe, you were just tightening further around him, body clinging to him in one last desperate push for closeness as your climax hit again. You cried out with it and you couldn’t just leave your hands on Joel’s shoulders, instead latching onto his hair and sliding down his back, pulling him flush against your body so the only thing left in the world was him and his skin and the thick of his cock as he started to pulse inside of you. 

Your orgasm almost hurt it was so intense. You could feel every inch of Joel’s cock in you, the heat and softness of his skin against you, every muscle in your body going rigid and tense for a moment before relaxing. Your vision went spotty and you got light headed and you lost track of time. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Joel’s arms, cradled against his chest, his fingers trailing a gentle path along the edge of your hairline and jaw, thumb brushing the plush of your lips. 

“There you are,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his large hand coming to rest against your cheek as you turned your head to look at him. His eyes were soft and warm and there was a gentle smile on his face. “How are you feelin’ love?” 

You took stock of your body for a moment, everything feeling light and airy. 

“I’m good,” you smiled a little. 

“Yeah?” He said, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Take a deep breath for me, OK?” 

You nodded a little and did as you were told, only realizing then just how little your lungs had been inflating before. 

“How’s that feelin’?” He asked. “Good?” 

You just nodded, still smiling. 

“How about this for the night,” he said, going back to tracing an easy trail over your skin with his fingertips. “In a few minutes, I get up and get you water and a cocktail while you put on that pretty little swimsuit of yours. You float in the water while I look at ya and finish those ribs in the smoker…” 

“You’re making me ribs?” You almost pouted, your brows going up. 

Joel chuckled. 

“Yeah, that OK?” 

“That’s my favorite,” you said, feeling like you might be about to cry. 

“I know it is, baby,” he said, kissing your temple again. “S’why I made ‘em. Got that potato salad you like, green beans, cornbread too. Even got that chocolate cake you like so much…” 

“The Oreo one?” You sniffed, tearing up. 

“The Oreo one,” he brushed your hair back. “You still with me there baby?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, crying a little. You weren’t entirely sure why, just every emotion you’d had over the past week seeming to bubble up at once. “I think so…” 

“You’re OK,” Joel said, pulling you closer, his lips gentle on your skin. “I’ve got you.” 

You just nodded against him and focused on how his skin felt on yours, his warmth and strength grounding while your mind was still swimming. 

“What about after dinner?” You sniffed. 

“We can watch one of those movies you like so much,” he said. “I know the ones that’ve been on your list, you don’t gotta pick unless you want to. Sound good?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “But… can we just stay here for a little while first? Please?” 

“Course baby,” he said. “Whatever you need. I’ll take care of you.” 

You nuzzled into his skin and breathed deep and you didn’t really know why you’d been so stressed when you got home to begin with. You just knew that you had Joel and that, as long as he was there, everything else would be OK.

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #smut fic #dom!joel miller

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i wrote a psa about people who broke my tos

✏️⚖️ (< for identification)

i make character adopts on toyhou.se and deviantart. i like designing characters but i rarely ever use them so i put them up for adoption so they can go to good homes. i have a tos for adopting my characters, which everyone is required to read before i go through with the adopt. the tos has rules about giving the character to someone else, which is that the current owner of the oc has to ask me first. there s a few reasons for this:

1 i dont want anyone reselling my character for more money than they bought them for unless they add value to the character by commissioning art or writing because its unfair to me who created the character if someone upsells them without adding value. having people ask first let's me make sure theyre not upcharging my work unfairly

2 i dont want certain people owning my characters. i have trauma surrounding certain people adopting my characters and using them problematically. for example someone ill call A once made my black characters skin lighter even though my tos says you cant change my characters race or body types. someone else, B, put my character into a proship relationship which is TOTALLY BANNED in my tos. i have a public list of people who are NOT allowed to own my characters and the idea of them owning them makes me super uncomfortable because i know theyll use my characters for bad things

3 it lets me make sure that the new owner has read my tos

a couple months ago someone (ill call them C) adopted a character of mine named lupin. a couple of days ago i was looking at my designs and i saw that lupin was now owned by D. i checked the ownership log which said that C traded lupin with D but i dont know what character C got in return. i sent C a message asking why they traded lupin without my permission and they said they didnt think they had to because it was a trade and not a sale. i told them that i have trauma around people giving my characters to others without permission and C said that i should talk to D instead because they (C) no longer owned the character.

i went to Ds profile and on their user page i saw a blocked comment so i unhid the comment and saw that it was B thanking D for following B. this set off alarm bells because i know that B is proship which is why i blocked them in the first place! so i decide to look into D, i find their tumblr and i find out that theyre also proship, they ship incest and they reblog irredeemable media like the coffin of andy and leyley

D wasnt on my blacklist specifically but its against my tos for proshippers to own my characters under any circumstances and its grounds for revocation. i message D to tell them that im revoking the character because theyre breaking my tos but D refused to transfer lupin back to me and blocked me.

i reuploaded lupins profile to my account and reported the original profile to th for being a violation of my tos, and i added C and D to my blacklist.

WIBTA if i wrote a psa about C and D to warn other people about them? i just dont want anyone else to go through this

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #ship discourse

[norrisleclercf1]

would you possible write some oscar fluff? like the reader is a pre-med student going to a really good uni but she's under a lot of pressure and oscar is there to calm her down like she feels overwhelmed and does a lot of all-nighters and he gets worried? is that okay?

A/N: Ughhhh this hit home so much

The amount of times Oscar has come home from a race and found you in a circle filled with pages and books would be more times than he'd like. Most of the time Oscar would make sure his mother or sisters would check up on you when they could. If you stayed in Woking he'd ask Lily a good friend of yours to check up on you.

Everyone knew that being pre-med was hard, and Oscar couldn't be prouder of you and even fans who knew about your strive for a degree would send you messages cheering you on. Oscar was home in England for the month and since moving here with him, and going to University Oscar was able to keep you calm and be there when you needed a break.

He was out for the day, in Woking for meetings and he'd be home soon. Looking at the time you curse seeing 8 hours went by without you moving, eating, or getting anything to drink. Sighing you feel the nerves creep up. You didn't have anything to be nervous about. Your next exam was a month out, and you were acing it.

But that didn't mean you didn't feel the pressure to do well on this exam. You close your eyes and sit up straight, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. It doesn't work. If anything you feel the anxiety bubble up even more, shaking your hands you can feel the burn in your eyes and open them, everything blurry from the tears.

"Y/n! I'm home and I've got your-" Oscar stops when he sees you look up, face blotchy, eyes red and covered in tears, and breathing hard. "I don't know," You whisper, Oscar sighs and places down your favorite takeout food and slides off his backpack. You couldn't even admire his Mclaren letterman jacket with white shirt.

Sitting down careful, not bending any books or tearing any papers. Pulling you into his lap you bury your face into the cold leather, it shocking you out of your mind. "You can cry baby, I'm here." Oscar never made you feel bad for feeling this way, instead he let you work through your emotions and then talk about them.

Oscar traces patterns on your back and just rocks back and forth slowly as you let your mind fall back into place not letting it be so scattered. When he notices you've calmed down enough, he takes deep breaths, which you start to do and sigh and hug him tighter.

"I'm okay, just....got stuck in my head." Oscar hums and stands awkwardly, as he moves you to the couch. "We need to eat," He whispers after a while and wipes your face, not even caring for the snot. "I'm not hungry," Your stomach rolls and you two share a look making you two giggle as Oscar tosses you and you squeal, feeling better as he grabs the bag and you notice what it is.

"Should someone like you being eating this?" Oscar tuns and glares slightly. "Don't rat me out," You giggle and move closer kissing him and rubbing his cheek. "Thank you," Oscar smiles and kisses you again. "Now, let's stuff our faces and watch trashy TV." "Deal," You knew you'd be okay, especially with Oscar by your side.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 fics #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri oneshot #op81 x reader #op81 imagine #op81 fluff #op81 fic #op81 x you

[natalievoncatte]

The palm-print panel was cool under Lena’s touch. She pressed her hand to the rectangular plate next to her front door and waited for the brief moment it needed to scan her skin. The door unlocked with a meaty thump and she pushed it open with her other hand, absently checking her phone as she stepped inside. As the system scanned her biometrics, it detected stress and dimmed the lights, automatically turned on the television to an abstract screen saver with cool tones, and began to play an arrangement for a violins to soothe her nerves.

She kicked off her heels and walked barefoot into the kitchen, where she skipped the countertop wine cellar and pulled out the half-empty box of Trader Joe’s vintage that she’d taken a liking to thanks to Kara. She pours herself half a tumbler full as a silent fuck you to her mother and took a swig, then walked out into her living room to sit down in the gloom for a few minutes and think.

Supergirl was sitting on her couch, head flopped back over the back so that her hair fanned out across the white leather. She sat splayed with her knees apart and legs out, arms resting on her thighs. Lena wasn’t sure if she was awake.

As she drew closer, she caught a small gasp. Supergirl had a black eye, and there were scrapes on her cheeks and the backs of her hands, the blood barely crusted. Both her hands and her face were bruised and she had a tiny split in her lip.

Lena placed the wine on the table, nerves jangling when the bottom rattled against the pale marble from the shaking of her hand. Her heart raced as she drew closer. Supergirl had taken off her cape and draped it over the couch. It was none the worse for wear but was covered in scorch marks.

Suoergirl’s broad chest heaved once and she let out a long, pained sigh.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Supergirl.”

She let out a little laugh, wincing. “Do we need be so formal?”

“I don’t have anything else to call you,” Lena said, coolly. “Mind if I ask why you’re in my apartment?”

“You don’t lock the balcony doors. You should.”

Lena sighed and folded her arms. “I said why, not how.”

Supergirl didn’t look at her.

“I just got the snot beaten out of me. Everything hurts.”

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

How was it possible? Curiosity tugged at her, but concern shot through it, making her fidget with her hands. Lena hated fidgeting. It made her look weak, and she could still remember the pain when Lillian cracked the ruler across her knuckles to break the habit.

“Can I have some wine?”

Lena swallowed hard.

“Sure,” she said.

She went to the kitchen and poured. When she returned to the living room, Supergirl was sitting up, hunched forward and leaning on he knees. Lena started a little at the sight. Sitting that way displayed the wide, muscular set of her shoulders and arms, especially her meaty biceps. Her back was a rare sight -she wore a cape, after all- and just as exquisitely muscled.

She was looking at her hands, at the damage to her muscles. Lena offered the glass and she took it. Her fingers were warm when they brushed against Lena’s, strangely soft.

Supergirl took a long pull of wine and smacked her lips, then winced.

“It’s times like this I wish I could get drunk.”

“You can’t?”

“Not on wine and not for very long.”

“Interesting.”

“So I have a problem,” Supergirl said. She was still looking at her hands.

“And that is?”

“I have to call off work tomorrow. These will heal, and I’ll look exactly the same. I don’t get scars anymore. But they’ll be visible for a day or so.”

“I see.”

“But I have to get brunch with someone, and they’ll be able to tell. Concealer won’t do much for this.” She touched her eye, wincing.

“Wait here,” said Lena.

She came back a moment later with some wash clothes soaked in cold water on a tray. Hands still shaking a little as she placed it on the table. Tenderly, she took one of the washcloths and dabbed the back of Supergirl’s hands, cleaning away the grime and dried blood from the abrasions.

Supergirl sighed. “That feels good. Thank you.”

“May I?” said Lena.

Supergirl hesitated, doubt flashing deep within the endless depths of her blue eyes, but she turned to Lena and tilted up her chin. With shaking fingers, Lena cupped Supergirl’s face gently and used a fresh cloth to clean and cool the cut on her lip. Supergirl closed her eyes and sighed.

Lena’s eyes wandered up, to the small mark above her eye.

“You don’t scar. Did you get that on Krypton?”

“Yes. I slipped and fell when I was a little girl. You should have seen me. I bled all over.”

“Must be nice, not getting hurt anymore. Not feeling pain.”

“I still feel it.”

Lena paused.

“I feel every bullet and blow and bomb blast just like anyone would,” said Supergirl. Just because it doesn’t harm me doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“It’s okay,” said Supergirl.

She opened her eyes -eye- and looked at Lena reverently, one pretty blue eye glittering while the other remained bruised shut. She smiled a lopsided, honest smile, looked at Lena in a dreamy, almost adoring way that-

Wait.

“Oh my God,” Lena breathed.

“Hi,” said Kara.

“Oh my God. Oh my God,” Lena whispered. “Oh my God, what happened, how did this happen to you? You’re hurt!”

“I had a tough time with a very determined alien and had to worry about civilians,” said Kara. “It happens.”

Lena’s pulse raced and her breath quickened. Her gaze darted, searching and noticing every detail. She was so beautiful, and she was so Kara.

“Why now?” said Lena. “Why this time?”

“I don’t know.”

Lena bit her lip, and the tiny gesture had a noticeable impact on Kara. Her eyes widened and her gaze fell to Lena’s bottom lip, then flicked back up.

“So your brunch,” said Lena. “That was with me.”

“Yeah. I thought about cancelling but I can’t. I needed to see you now.”

Lena shifted closer on the couch, until they were hip to hip.

“Why?”

“Because I just got punched in the head by an alien with big stupid bone spurs coming out of his fist and I need to see you. I won, by the way. It was really cool. I ripped a fire hydrant out of the ground and hit him with it.”

Lena looked her up and down. Her jaw began to quiver.

“Oh God. Is it worse than it looks? Are you hurt worse than you look, Kara? Are you…”

Kara shook her head, then winced. “No. Not that bad, promise. I just…” she sighed. “I’m tired of going to lay on a sunbed and going back to my empty apartment and spend a sick day napping on the couch.”

Lena let out a slow breath. “So you came to see me.”

“Yuuup,” Kara said, slowly.

Lena shifted awkwardly in her seat. Kara slowly reached over with her now clean hand and curled her fingers around Lena’s chin.

“Lena?” she whispered. “Is this okay?”

“Yes.”

Kara turned and leaned into her, pressing the slightest, lightest kiss to Lena’s lips, not a quick peck but something slow and soft, warm and inviting.

“Ow,” Kara muttered.

“Kara,” Lena whispered.

“I have any idea. Since I can’t make brunch… how about breakfast?”

Lena leaned against her, gently draping her arms around her as they fell back into the soft cushions together.

“Okay.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #supercorp fluff #tooth rotting fluff #so much fluff #total fluff #fluffalicious #here at Natalie’s fluff depot we have all the fluff you could ever want

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two

A small note: if you would like to be added to the tagging list please ask in a reply to the post, I won't check elsewhere.

Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.

Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.

He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.

They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.

Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.

Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.

Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”

Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.

Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.

Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.

Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.

Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”

And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.

Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.

Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.

Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.

Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.

It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.

Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.

Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.

Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.

Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.

Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”

They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.

Steve said he’d drive them.

“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”

“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”

That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”

And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.

So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”

Robin hums again.

Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.

For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #pre steddie #the party #my writing #steddie dreamed life

[heich0e]

tomura tries to sneak out of your apartment one morning before you wake up, because he has to get all the way back to his apartment before his dad shows up to take him to a 9AM yoga class.

god forbid he be forced to explain:

a) why he slept over at an apartment that was not his own to his father (toshinori would be calling wedding venues and asking his assistant to look into your ring size before they'd even made it to the yoga studio)

nor b) the fact that he was going to a fucking yoga class at 9 o'clock in god damn the morning with his dad, to you.

he slips out of your bed soundlessly, moving as carefully as possible not to wake you. it pains him to do it. really, it does. your sheets are warm, and soft, and smell like you. and you're still there resting so peacefully, tucked under them, breathing soundly with your face burrowed into the collar of his hoodie that you'd worn to bed the night before. you look so pretty like this, tomura had spent at least half an hour just staring at you while he was laying next to you in your treacherously comfortable bed, and would have happily spent another hour more doing it.

there are very few forces on earth that could tear tomura out of bed like this, but the mortifying prospect of having to explain to his over-enthusiastic father that he has a girlfriend is certainly one of them.

he creeps out of your room and into the bathroom, splashing some cool water on his face and using the lotion that you keep next to the sink that makes his skin feel so nice. you started buying a bigger bottle lately, now that the two of you are both using it, and you never mentioned it but tomura still noticed when the little tube was replaced by a larger version of the same product. next he reaches for the toothbrush that he's started keeping next to yours, double checking the hour on his phone to make sure he wasn't running out of time.

he contemplates stealing one last peek at you in bed before he leaves, but he knows that if he doesn't leave now he won't have time to change his clothes before his dad shows up outside his place, so he heads straight to your front door once he's done in the washroom.

you're standing in his path before he can get to it.

you've got a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, but he can still see the soft skin of your thighs where the hem of his hoodie hangs peeking out from underneath the edges of it. there's a little frown tugging the corners of your mouth down.

tomura freezes in his tracks.

"going somewhere?" you ask him, your voice quiet and a little bit hoarse from sleep.

oh, fuck.

"morning," he mumbles, a bit nervously, as you pin him in your stare.

"it is," you reply, as though agreeing with him. "early, even. so why are you sneaking out of my apartment like a burglar?"

tomura rakes a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "i, uh, gotta be somewhere."

"you have to be somewhere?" you repeat, a bit incredulously—like the words don't quite compute. you don't seem mad at all, just thoroughly bewildered by the whole strange situation. "tomu, we went three rounds last night and you're awake before two PM on a weekend. are you okay?"

"'course i'm okay," he rushes to get out, tripping over his words.

"did I like... do something? or is there someone el—"

"are you kidding?" tomura's voice cracks and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. he reaches out and grabs the edge of the blanket you have wrapped around you, his fingers twisting into it desperately. he knows you can't possibly—can't reasonably—think that he's seeing anybody else when the fact that he even landed someone like you is an honest to god miracle. the kind of underdog success story they make multi-part docuseries on.

tomura groans, shuffling forward and resting his forehead against your shoulder as he snakes his arms underneath the blanket around your frame to hold you close.

"you're being weird, tomu," you say quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag lightly against his scalp in that way that makes him want to shiver.

"fuck, I know, I know,"—he buries his face further into the crook of your neck, breathing in shakily—"'m not being sketchy or anything."

"you are," you remark lightly. "it's not that I don't trust you, I'm just confused."

tomura mumbles something, but the words are lost to the skin of your throat.

"what was that?" you ask.

tomura steels his nerve and takes one last long breath buried against your warmth. he pulls away and faces you.

"I have to go to a yoga class with my dad."

he loses his nerve about halfway through his admission, his eyes flickering away from yours to a point on the wall just above your front door, as a violent heat surges through his cheeks.

"a yoga class?"

he knows it sounds ridiculous. it is ridiculous. it may have been more believable to tell you he was going to hook up with someone el—

"why didn't you just say that?" your laughter cuts through his spiralling thoughts like a morning alarm.

his gaze snaps back to you, only to find you smiling softly.

"you... you're not...?" tomura isn't even sure what he's going to say. mad? surprised? convinced he's lying?

"i mean, i've noticed you've been looking kind of toned lately, but honestly i thought it's because we've been fucking so much," you scrunch your nose up a little. "yoga makes sense on both counts, though."

you turn and look across your apartment to the clock hanging on the wall.

"what time's your class?" you ask him, suddenly worried that this impromptu interrogation may have made him late. "i didn't mean to—"

tomura grabs either side of the blanket wrapped around your shoulders and tugs you forward, pressing his mouth to yours while your lips are still parted in speech.

(he doesn't make it to class that morning after all.)

#toshinori in his full lulu fit standing outside of tomura's apartment 25 mins later like: :D where is my beautiful son

[twice-inamillion]

Smut

Sister Talk

Chapter 232 1,826 Words

(Jeongyeon and her sister, Seungyeon, have gotten together at Jeongyeon's request. Seungyeon finds out her little sister's secret and has fun teasing her.)

The environment in the house has been much better after the release of Feel Special. The members are busy with their schedules, such as fan meetings, fan signs, and broadcast shows. All of this resulted in the members being tired at the end of each day. Some of them lazed around the house while others took a different approach, such as Nayeon. Jeongyeon, after a long day, walks through the hallway and tries to use the restroom. She passes some of the member's rooms until she comes close to yours and hears people giggling and some moaning. Interested, she tiptoes, puts her ear to the door, and tries to listen. She listens to the voice and tries to figure out who it is. Out of nowhere, she hears Nayeon’s moaning voice, “You're reaching so deep inside me, I'm going to cum.” Jeongyeon feels a tingling sensation in her private area, knowing what is going on the other side of the door. “He's always fucking, that nasty pig,” as she keeps listening to you both. “What are you doing?” Jeongyeon turns around and sees Chaeyoung coming out of her room, “Nothing.” “Doesn't seem like nothing. Are you peeping up on him?” “No, I just heard something, so I came to check.” Chaeyoung smirked and walked up to Jeongyeon, “Let's see what is going on,” as she placed her ear on the door. “Ahh, you came so much inside me.” Chaeyoung turns around and smirks, “Nayeon unnie is getting filled with so much cum. Maybe I'll tell him to give me some too.” She stands up and gives Jeongyeon a nudge, “You should let him fill you too.” Jeongyeon turns red and chases Chaeyoung off to her room. She can only imagine what's going on as she heads down the stairs and to the living room. Jeongyeon tries to keep herself busy throughout the day but can't seem to get it out of her mind, so she decides to make other plans. She takes out her phone and messages the person she can talk to about her problems, “Unnie, can I come over?” “Sure, come by at any time.”

It's been a while since Jeongyeon visited her older sister. She carries a small gift as she stands in front of the door and rings the doorbell. “Why do you ring the door? You already know my passcode.” “Hey, unnie. Just habit of mine.” “Well, come in, or are you going to stand there?” Jeongyeon walks inside and places the cake she brought into the fridge. “When's the last time you went shopping for groceries?” “Umm. About a week ago. I've been busy, so I've ordered some takeout.” “You need to eat homemade meals. Let's go grocery shopping right now. I'll pay.” “Haha. You seem more like the unnie than me.”

The two of them go shopping and get back with large bags of groceries and other things they found along the way. Seungyeon and Jeongyeon end up making a full-course meal, with Jeongyeon making the most of it. They try to catch up and talk about their lives, both professional and personal. “How's promotions going?” “Good but can tiring. What about you?”” “Just finished a small project, so now I'm resting.” “That sounds like fun.” “I can stay in and catch up on my shows. What about you?” “What do you mean?” “Well… there's a reason why you came, right? Something troubling you?” “I don't want to talk about it.” “Alright, let's change the subject.” “Thanks.” “Oh, I got my jacuzzi installed.” “Oh really?” “Yeah. It got here two weeks ago, but I haven't had a chance to try it out. Want to give it a go?” “Sure.” The two of them take a quick shower before getting inside the jacuzzi. Jeongyeon walks out of the patio and sees her sister already inside. “Come Jeongyeon, how long are you going to keep me waiting? Come inside.” Jeongyeon goes up the steps and undoes her bathrobe. “Why are you in a swimsuit? It's a jacuzzi, not a pool; take it off,” as her sister stands up and reveals her nude body. “Unnie, why are you nude?” Jeongyeon tries to cover her face. “It's my house, my rules. So go back, take off that swimsuit, and returns in “proper” attire.” Jeongyeon steps down and puts on her bathrobe before heading back to the house. It only takes her a few minutes for her to come back. As she goes up the steps, Seungyeon says, “Take it off, take it off,” teasing her. She drops her bathrobe and covers her nether regions and breasts as she gets into the water. “Haha, why are you covering? It's not like I haven't seen you nude better.” Jeongyeon rolls her eyes and takes her hands off her chest, “there, happy?” Seungyeon gets behind her and, cups her sister's breast from behind, and gives them a nice feel, “You grew a little bit.” She whines and says, “Unnie, stop, I don't like it.” “You're boring. Have some fun, Jeongyeon. Would you say that same if it was the guy you liked?” Jeongyeon stops and imagines herself being handled by you. Seungyeon grins and grabs a bit more, teasing her areolas, “So you do have someone you like, who is it? As your older sister, I should know who my little Jeongyeon likes.” “I don't like anyone,” resisting her sister's advancements. “Lies, I know you like the palm of my hand. You like someone, huh? I can tell.” “Un… unnie, please.” Seungyeon moves her hands towards Jeongyeon's nipples and gives them a slow but steady squeeze, causing Jeongyeon to moan out, “Okay, I'll tell you.” “Go on, who is it? Tell your big sister who you like.” “My oppa. I like him.” Seungyeon tries to figure out who it is until it finally clicks. “Wait, you don't mean Jihyo's husband, right?” Jeongyeon turns around and hesitantly nods her head, “Yeah, him.” Seungyeon grins and squeezes her sister, causing her to scream, “Wait, you’re pinching too hard!” “I didn't know my little sister craved for a married man, especially one that has children. You're naughty, Jeongyeon. Haha.” “Don't say it like that. You're making it sound bad.” “Haha I'm just teasing. Anyways, have you too?” slipping her index finger into her other hand in a circular shape. “Eww…that's the first thing you want to know?” “Yeah, it's a normal question to ask.” “No, we haven't done it.” “Why?” “Don't worry about it.” “Oh. Don't tell me, he doesn't even know.” Jeongyeon turns her face from embarrassment, causing her sister to tease her once more, “Oh, it's a one-sided crush, haha.” Jeongyeon, upset at her constant teasing, says, “You're making me look bad.” “Haha, okay, I'll stop.” “Thanks.” Seungyeon changes the conversation into her own love life and how she's been single for these past two years, only dating here and there but nothing serious. Jeongyeon, surprised by her casual dating, asks, “Unnie. How was your first time?”

Seungyeon turns around and asks, “Oh, you're interested?” Jeongyeon starts getting a bit red but tries to play it off, saying, “I was just wondering that's all.” Seungyeon tries to remember and says, “It wasn't too bad. He was a friend from school, so it just hurt a bit. He was average, so it wasn't a big deal.” “Oh, how much average?” “Hmm, maybe 3-5 inches.” “What about 8 inches?” Seungyeon wasn't listening too much until he heard her say eight, “Eight inches? That’s huge.” “Really?” “Yes, that would literally split you in half.” Jeongyeon looks surprised, not knowing that your cock was above average. “Oh, I thought that was normal.” “No, it's not. He’s huge.” “Oh,” debating if she should be happy or upset about your size. “Have you seen it before or have a picture of it?” asks Seungyeon. “Umm…” “You do, huh? Let me see it,” she said, rubbing her hands together. She was excited to see someone hung for the first time. Jeongyeon makes her way to the other side of the jacuzzi, grabs her phone, and goes to her hidden phone gallery. She gives her phone to her sister, making her gasp in awe as she sees a photograph of your cock as you sleep. “Jeongyeon, he’s huge. I can’t believe Jihyo’s husband is that hung. Too bad he’s taken” as Seungyeon slips her hand under the water. Jeongyeon sees her sister bite her lip and is surprised at how cock hungry she is, “Unnie, give me the phone back!” “Just give me a bit,” she said, trying to swipe to see if she found other photos. She swipes it, sees a video, and clicks on it. “Ahh, ahhh… fuck me harder” Seungyeon watches as one of her sister’s members is getting fucked in a mating press position. She moves her fingers towards her cunt and traces her folds, “fuck me from the back, please.” Jeongyeon makes her way to her sister, and they watch you flip around the member and get a view of her back. “You want this cock?” ”Yes, fuck me hard, please.” They both watch as you slap your cock against her ass, making ripples on her cheeks, “Wow, that cock is huge!” Both sisters are glued to the screen as you align your cock to her entrance. The person in the video groans as her cunt is split wide open. They each trace their folds and finger themselves to the movement of your thrusting. They look at each other but don’t do a thing and turn back to watch the last scene as you cum and eventually pull out, showing the cum oozing out of the member’s cunt. ”Jeongyeon, I’m jealous of Jihyo. She has a good husband. If I was her, I would be riding that cock every day.” ”Unnie!” “It’s true,” scrolling to another view, but Jeongyeon snatches the phone out of her hand. “Aww, I wanted to watch another one.” ”No.” ”Alight, maybe I’ll ask Jihyo if she can let me borrow him for a weekend.” ”No, he’s mine!” ”Doesn’t look like it. If that was the case, then it would be you riding that cock instead of whoever was in that video.” It’s true; all of the members except her have had an actual taste. She’s the only one out of nine; maybe she should have a real taste. “I’ll do it when it thinks it's time.” ”Let me know; maybe I’ll stop and join, haha.” ”You’re the worst.” ”I’m kidding.”

The two of them continue the night and watch a few movies before calling it for the day. They get ready and sleep in the same bed as Jeongyeon tries to organize her thoughts about the matter, “maybe a taste wouldn’t be so bad.”

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice jeongyeon #jeongyeon smut #yoo jeongyeon #jeongyeon #seungyeon #TM smut #girl idol smut

[randombush3]

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken? 

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible. 

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier. 

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.” 

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.” 

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.” 

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?” 

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.” 

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.”  You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.” 

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to. 

“I am always on your side.” 

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be. 

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase. 

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

… 

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted. 

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you. 

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad. 

And… you, apparently. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door. 

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.” 

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously. 

“Of course.” 

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence. 

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft. 

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.” 

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?” 

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this. 

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration. 

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection? 

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor? 

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility. 

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.” 

“Maybe she only likes men.” 

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.” 

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.” 

…

You are more than a little confused. 

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend. 

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much. 

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you? 

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world. 

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar. 

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?” 

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.” 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.” 

“I cried for months.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.” 

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes. 

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself. 

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.” 

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving. 

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said. 

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone. 

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.” 

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.” 

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy. 

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more. 

Do you regret it? 

It’s unclear. 

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here. 

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become. 

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date. 

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official. 

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face. 

There are many reasons why you go out with him. 

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied. 

He’s not Ona. You know that. 

That's the whole point. 

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care. 

But you just… don’t. 

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head. 

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself. 

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago. 

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them. 

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.” 

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday. 

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona. 

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger. 

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?” 

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country. 

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.” 

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. 

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited. 

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially. 

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming. 

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it. 

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun. 

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced. 

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything. 

It won’t. (It does.) 

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight. 

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden. 

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun. 

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible. 

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk. 

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up. 

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore. 

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit. 

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom. 

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’. 

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right. 

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier. 

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.” 

It’s not true. 

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again. 

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done. 

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit. 

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill. 

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents. 

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again. 

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam. 

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off. 

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams. 

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.” 

“Why?” 

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.” 

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona. 

She picks up. 

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.” 

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” 

“Are you back at home?” 

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.” 

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles. 

“Need me to show you around the city?” 

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no? 

…

Your visit goes very well. 

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend. 

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life. 

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery. 

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.   

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement. 

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?” 

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa. 

“Who do you care about, then?” 

“You.” 

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day. 

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend. 

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter. 

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before. 

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back. 

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly. 

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.” 

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers. 

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her. 

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh. 

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?” 

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly. 

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.” 

Ona blushes. 

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless. 

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on. 

And that’s when she whispers it. 

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering. 

It has taken years but it does not matter. 

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home. 

#woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #barca femeni #woso imagines #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #ona batlle smut

[steddieas-shegoes]

i wanna be a good boy

for @subeddieweek day two with the prompts cockwarming and first times

rated e | 3,319 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one:  ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

One month.

One month was all it took for Eddie to fall entirely down the Steve rabbit hole.

They talked on the phone every night for a week after the school incident, and most of it wasn’t even dirty.

And then Steve showed up at his door, much to the shock and awe of Eddie himself, and they started hanging out. Like friends.

It was weird, even Wayne thought so, but Eddie was gonna keep this going for as long as he could get away with.

One day– a Friday, Eddie would never forget –Steve showed up at nearly ten at night, much later than usual. He hadn’t mentioned that he’d be by at all, even mentioned that he and Robin might hang out after their shift.

But there he was standing at Eddie’s door.

“Not that you’re not welcome, but uh, what are you doing here?” Eddie asked, standing at the door with his sweatpants on, torn up tank top hanging off of him in maybe the most unattractive way possible.

“Sorry, I can go. I just um, I had kind of a bad day? Just needed to-”

“Oh, you wanted weed? I just restocked, actually, even managed to grab a few edibles this time. Those are pretty rare for our neck of the woods, but I’ll slip you one for free if you promise not to tell anyone I pick favorites,” Eddie winked, backing up to let Steve in.

“No, uh, not weed. Is your uncle home? I didn’t see his truck,” Steve still stood at the door awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

“Nope, working a couple night shifts this week to cover for his buddy. They keep talkin’ about switching him to nights permanently, but hopefully he says no. He’s too old for that shit.”

Suddenly, his back met the wall behind him, shaking the mugs hanging up dangerously. The door slammed closed and Steve’s hands were on him again.

“Uh-”

“Remember how we talked about the things we were into? And you said you’d never gotten to try much?” Steve’s breath was hot against Eddie’s face.

Eddie’s dick was twitching in his pants as he nodded.

“Could we try something?”

“What-” Eddie swallowed. “What did you wanna try?”

“You remember when you said you wanted someone to use your mouth?”

Oh fuckin’ Christ.

He thought back to the conversation they’d had only a week before, high out of their minds, talking about their experiences and what they were into, what they thought they’d be into, what they weren’t into at all. It was enlightening, and Eddie had stripped his cock until he was numb after Steve went home.

He admitted to Steve that there was something special about knowing the person who is using you cares about you, that you’ve trusted this person enough to do whatever they want with you knowing that they would never go past your comfort zone on purpose. It wasn’t necessarily about getting off, or even getting the other person off, it was just about knowing he could make someone feel good, be useful, cherish someone in a physical way.

Steve didn’t have much to say to that, but did admit he’d always wondered if he’d be into cockwarming.

Eddie hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

“I…do remember that, yes,” Eddie’s breath left him as Steve crowded him further against the wall, his arms resting on either side of Eddie’s head, boxing him in.

“You wanna try that with me?”

Yeah, obviously. Eddie dreamed about this, literally for years. Sucking on Steve’s dick until he couldn’t think of anything except the weight of it on his tongue? Sign him the fuck up.

But a small part of his brain still fought him on it, screaming that this was a bad idea, that nothing good could possibly come from being that vulnerable with someone he was pretty sure he was falling in love with.

“You can say no,” Steve backed away an inch or so, gave him room to breathe, to think, goddammit.

Eddie could say no. He could remember that this wasn’t a relationship, and probably never would be. They were friends, and Eddie’s unfortunate pining was not mutual.

Steve even said he’d had a bad day, probably just needed to let off some steam.

Eddie could help with that.

“No, we can do it. Stoplight system?” Eddie asked. God, he was gonna regret this.

“Yeah. One tap for green, two for yellow, three for red.”

Oh, yeah. He wouldn’t be able to talk with Steve’s dick in his mouth. Right.

“Where should we-” Eddie was nervous. His palms were sweaty, which was gross, and his heart was racing, which was probably close to a medical emergency.

“Where are you most comfortable, Eds?” Steve’s hands grasped his, sweat and all, and Eddie felt himself relax against the wall.

“My room.”

Steve’s lips brushed against his, reassuring in their silent strength. He led him down the short hallway to his bedroom, gently closing the door behind them.

Eddie let himself pretend that this was special, that this was only for them, that Steve never shared himself like this with anyone else. He’d feel the pain of the truth tomorrow, when the sun brought it along as it rose and Eddie woke up alone.

For now, he’d be here with Steve, making him feel good.

“On the bed or on your knees?” Steve asked, pushing his hair away from his face and holding his head steady so he couldn’t look away. Somehow, Steve already knew him well enough to know that facing these things head on was a difficult task. He wouldn’t let him run.

“Knees.”

If he was gonna have this, they should go all out.

Steve grabbed a pillow from Eddie’s bed, the one he always used when they were laying in it getting high together, and placed it on the floor. Eddie watched him unbutton his pants, no hint of shame or nerves.

Eddie felt like he was vibrating out of his skin, but Steve just seemed calm.

“I’m gonna sit here so we can find where it’s comfortable, okay?” Steve asked as he sat on the edge of Eddie’s bed, now naked from the waist down.

Eddie nodded, suddenly feeling shy. When had he ever been shy before?

“You’ve gotta use words, okay?”

“Sorry, yeah. That’s fine.”

“‘S fine.” Steve spread his legs so Eddie could kneel on the pillow between them. “Look at me.”

Fuck.

Eddie had sucked a dick before. On his knees even. But it was nothing like this, no one like Steve.

Steve was staring down at him with something similar to awe, and Eddie couldn’t handle it.

What right did Steve have to look at him like that, from his place above, ready to be worshiped by a person who never learned how to look up at a god for guidance? How could he look down at Eddie on his knees and see anything worthy?

He wouldn’t ask him, but he wondered.

He wondered how he’d crash back to earth after.

His cock was already hard, but there was no sense of urgency in the way Steve’s fingers scratched at his scalp. He wasn’t tugging him closer, wasn’t telling him to do anything.

He just watched and waited.

Eddie scooted in closer, not tearing his eyes from Steve’s, not wanting to lose this feeling yet.

He leaned in, bent over just enough at the waist to brush his lips against the tip of his cock, eyes still locked with Steve.

“You can taste, baby.”

Fuck, again.

The whimper that escaped him was muffled by his lips closing around the tip, tongue pressing against the precum trying to drip down his length.

He’d heard that Steve was confident, saw it firsthand in the school halls. He had no fucking clue that Steve could do this.

His hand in Eddie’s hair tightened, but he still didn’t tug or push him further down on his cock. His eyes closed for a moment as he moaned.

Eddie wanted to drink that sound, find a way to swallow it with his cum, make it a part of him a ls a reminder that he made Steve sound like that. Steve’s eyes blinked open, pupils blown and cheeks flushed a soft pink.

“Your mouth is perfect. So lucky you’re letting me have this,” Steve muttered, sounding damn near delusional.

Eddie knew he was pretty good at this, but he’d barely even gotten Steve in his mouth. He knew Steve had a bit of a dry spell recently, but this was being a little dramatic.

But he let the praise wash over him anyways, settling into the warmth spreading through his chest and stomach at the words.

“Take what you can but don’t suck. Just get used to it.” Steve was breathless as Eddie sunk further down.

He was big, but Eddie was already feeling a little cloudy, and he’d practiced on a lot of bananas back in the day, so he didn’t stop until his nose was nestled against his pubes.

Steve’s chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hand flexing against the bedsheet to keep from flexing in his hair.

Eddie swallowed. Steve groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so warm. Feel so good,” Steve looked down at him and smiled encouragingly. “You good? Need to move?”

Eddie tapped once on Steve’s thigh.

“Good. You’re doing so good. Just relax. I got you, baby,” Steve was barely speaking louder than a whisper, but the words sent vibrations through Eddie’s entire body.

He finally let his eyes close and let the thoughts fly away.

The only thing he could hear was the occasional intake of breath when Eddie swallowed around Steve’s cock. He didn’t do it as often as he probably should, but it was hard to remember to do it until the spit was dripping from his mouth and making a mess.

Steve kept a hand in his hair the entire time, sometimes just a calm reminder that he was there paying attention and sometimes to dig his nails in and remind him where he was. Despite how he felt, he was still on the floor of his bedroom, making sure Steve’s cock stayed hard and warm in his mouth.

He sometimes found the energy to swirl his tongue around the sides, cataloging the whines that left Steve’s lips when he did.

The world didn’t exist beyond the feeling of Steve’s cock on his tongue and the sounds Steve let out. Eddie slowly let his head fall to the side, resting on Steve’s thigh, only managing to keep half of Steve’s length inside when he did.

But Steve just pet his hair, traced his cheeks and lips, whispered that he was doing good.

Eddie drifted far, but Steve knew exactly when to pull him back.

“Hey, Eds,” he said softly. “Let’s give your mouth a rest, okay?”

Steve’s hand gently pulled Eddie’s head away, a quiet popping noise making it obvious when Steve’s cock fell from his lips.

He whined and pushed forward, trying to get it back in his mouth. He didn’t wanna be done. He liked floating here with Steve.

“I know, baby. You did so good. But it’s time to take a break.” Steve’s thumb rubbed against his cheek, pausing at the corner of his mouth before pushing in. Eddie moaned, sucking it further in so he didn’t feel so empty. “If you’re good, I’ll fuck your face and come in your mouth.”

Well, Eddie could be good if that was the reward.

Steve pulled his thumb from his mouth and rested his hand against his cheek.

He watched as Eddie slowly came back to himself, to the world around them, to Steve.

“Hey, Eds,” soft, fond, too much for Eddie.

“Hey, Stevie,” too in love, too infatuated, too obsessed.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good.” Steve’s smile was distracting, and Eddie couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. An explosion could happen behind him and he’d still only have eyes for Steve. “Can I get my mouth on you?”

Wait.

What?

Steve wanted…he…what?

“It’s okay to say no, Eddie. It just looks like you could use it,” Steve glanced down at Eddie’s lap. Eddie lifted his head from Steve’s thigh to see what he meant and was actually surprised to see his own cock tenting his pants, a dark wet spot making it very obvious how much he’d been leaking. “I can take care of you. You earned it, Eds.”

See, the thing is, no one had ever sucked Eddie’s dick. Not a single person he’d fooled around with had returned the favor because they were “in a rush” or it “wasn’t the dom’s job.” Eddie wasn’t stupid; He knew those were just excuses for them to get off and run.

But Steve Harrington of all people offering to suck him off. What fucking universe was he living in?

“No, I-” Eddie was gonna just have to admit it. “No one’s ever done that for me. So it may be over quick.”

Steve’s eyes widened. “No one? But you said- you’ve done some of this stuff before.”

“Yeah, yeah. But like, only giving, never receiving? I mean one handjob in a bathroom stall once, but the guy didn’t even spit in his hand first. I like pain, but that was…not the best.” Eddie scrunched up his nose at the reminder of the sensitivity he felt for two days after that. Hopefully the guy learned some basic manners for the next poor guy he got his hand on. “I don’t wanna disappoint you.”

The floating sensation he’d had was mostly gone now, replaced with nerves and an overwhelming need to please Steve.

“You wouldn’t. The only thing that would disappoint me is if I didn’t make you feel good.” Steve turned Eddie’s face back up towards him. “I don’t care if it takes five seconds or five hours. I wanna make you come.”

Eddie should actually say no. This would be the final nail in the coffin, he could tell. If Steve got his mouth on him, no one else would ever live up to it, and since he could never keep Steve permanently, he should say no.

“Okay.”

Steve’s face lights up, his grin contagious as Eddie smiles back at him.

“Get on the bed,” Steve orders, though the smile stops him from sounding demanding. “Make yourself comfy.”

Of all the times Eddie had pictured Steve in his bed, it was not like this. He’d always pictured himself being thrown around, fucked until he was begging to stop from oversensitivity, riding Steve until his legs were shaking too much to keep going. He’d pictured waking up to Steve entering his still stretched hole, after hours of being fucked the night before.

He’d never pictured having Steve’s mouth on him, hadn’t dared to.

Eddie did what Steve asked, keeping himself near the center of the bed so Steve had plenty of room.

Steve leaned over him, covering his entire body, his chest hair brushing against Eddie’s and making goosebumps appear across his skin. It was already too much, even without pressure on his cock.

Lips against his neck, teeth biting into his skin with just enough pressure to leave marks. Hands sliding down his sides and pulling his sweats off his hips. A groan as Steve took in Eddie’s length as it twitched against his stomach.

“You’re perfect.”

The words sunk deep into Eddie’s brain, making a home there for him to find comfort during the times when he forgot that he was good.

Steve’s lips trailed down his chest. He didn’t move slowly, probably could guess that Eddie was too close for teasing or taking his time with him.

“You can come whenever you want, okay? Don’t wait for permission. This is your permission.”

God, this was gonna be so embarrassing. Hopefully, Steve meant what he said.

And if he didn’t, hopefully he at least had the decency to not make fun of him.

Steve nipped at his hip, pressing small kisses across his stomach before licking at his tip.

Eddie’s thighs tensed and his hands gripped the sheets under him.

Just breathe.

Steve’s hands pushed his legs further apart, as far as they would go with his sweats still half on.

Eddie knew he was good at giving head. There were few things he was confident about, but that was one of them. That, and his guitar playing.

But Steve was incredible.

He was born for this.

He knew exactly how to swirl his tongue, exactly how much to suck before taking more.

When he moaned with Eddie halfway down his throat, it was over.

It was a damn shame, too. Eddie wanted to experience hours of this.

But it felt too good and Steve did tell him to come as soon as he needed to.

Steve didn’t even choke when he came down his throat, just moaned again and swallowed it.

Eddie did his best not to buck his hips up, but he was only human, and Steve was still sucking well past the point of his orgasm being over. He was sensitive, okay?

Finally, when Eddie managed to get a hand in Steve’s hair and tug gently, he let Eddie’s softening cock fall from his mouth as he looked up grinning.

“Was that okay?” he had the audacity to ask, as if he hadn’t just sucked the soul out of Eddie’s cock.

“No, it sucked,” Eddie deadpanned, surprisingly breathless still.

“Ha.” Steve moved back up his body, covering him. “But seriously. Was it good?”

“Stevie, I have absolutely nothing to compare it to except fantasies and you outdid those. So yeah. I’d say it was good,” Eddie closed his eyes, smiling to himself as he felt Steve’s weight press on him from above.

Lips brushed against his forehead and then Steve’s weight was gone.

“No, come back,” Eddie opened his eyes and reached his hands out, searching for Steve’s skin.

“I’m just grabbing you a drink, Eds.”

A drink? Eddie didn’t need a drink.

Well, maybe he did. His throat was a little scratchy, and he felt a bit lightheaded.

Steve was back before he could do a full evaluation on his body’s needs, glass of water in hand.

He couldn’t help the ogling, and he wouldn’t deny that’s what he was doing if asked.

Steve was still hard, cock straining against his underwear. Eddie should do something about that.

“Will you fuck my face?” He asked before he even took a sip of the water Steve handed him.

“Maybe if you drink all of that water,” Steve slid into bed next to him, turning on his side as he watched Eddie take a few sips. “Don’t want you to drop.”

“I won’t. I’m good,” Eddie was not too good for begging, especially not when he still felt tingles up and down his spine as Steve kept his eyes on him.

“I know you’re good, but doing too much at once can hurt you so we’re gonna take a minute.”

He knew Steve was right, but he felt better than ever. He was ready.

He still didn’t argue, knew better than to risk Steve saying no altogether.

Steve held the water as Eddie settled further into the sheets, moving the pillow so his head was resting against it, but still sitting up enough to avoid falling asleep.

Or so he thought.

The moment his head hit the pillow, his eyes felt heavy.

Steve’s voice was distant as he asked if he was okay.

“Jus’ restin’ my eyes,” Eddie mumbled.

“Sounds good, baby.”

If Eddie were more awake, he probably would have heard the smirk in Steve’s tone, maybe would’ve realized that Steve was aware he was losing a battle he didn’t even know he was fighting.

He slipped into unconsciousness with Steve’s fingers in his hair and his warmth in his bed.

Day three: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #subeddieweek #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington

[naompspsps]

Looking so ravishing, why hide it?

Vil x Insecure Gn!Reader

Summary: Insecurities hit you more than the things you went through. Luckily your boyfriend was helping you feel better.

You're in a relationship with Vil, You have alot of insecurities about your body. Probably even personality. Reader is GN but wearing a pretty dress bcs its slay, slay reader!! If you're a boy, SLAY MAN!!! but if you're a tomboy, You're still slaying but also sorry that you gotta wear a dress :c

Reader has a permanent scar that they're insecure of :((

A/n: AAAHHH I THOUGHT OF THIS WHEN I WAS PLAYING TWISTED WONDERLAND IN THE JP SERVER AND LISTENING TO MUSIC

You aren't breaking any promises. You promised your boyfriend you would go with him at the mall to pick out clothes for him and you. You didn't want to get outfits but he hushed you and took you there anyways.

You walk around with Vil, who is currently picking out outfits. You just stand there beside him, hoping that you both could just go home. "Dear, Why aren't you searching for clothes? It's gonna be our special date tomorrow." He reminds. "I- Um, Don't feel like picking."

"Then I'll pick for you." Vil swipes through the purple blazers, while you just stare at him, You weren't expecting that kind of answer. "No need! I already have clothes for tomorrow's special day for you... And I.." You mumble the last words, embarrassed to include yourself in.

"Nonsense darling, It's not called special without a new special matching outfit." Vil hushes you with his pointer finger on your mouth and continuing to swipe through the clothes. He can already tell what's happening, but he plans to keep it to himself until he's sure it's true.

Vil was taking a while to pick out new outfits for himself, But you weren't complaining, You loved watching him check out if he looks nice and even asks you. Of course you know he looks beautiful, He doesn't even need to look at the mirror. But despite having fun complimenting him, it was your turn.

He walked to grab a purple dress, it was glittery at the ends of the dress. It was an off-shoulders, glittery one side slit dress, not to mention the sleeves are puffed.

You suddenly felt a nervous feeling in your chest, slowly rising up to your head. Alot of thoughts were racing in your mind. Not just two. More.

What if people judge me?

I don't look good in that.

Please, I don't wanna see myself in that.

I would look disgusting in it.

The dress looks pretty, but does it look pretty on me?

Vil studies your face, reading it easily. "Hun, If you think this does not look good on you, take a better look." You wonder how Vil managed to read you that easily. "How'd you know?.."

"You're covering your stomach with your arms, Did you think I wouldn't be able to read my own stunning lover's thoughts just by gesture?" He asks you, instead of answering, You just cover yourself more, pulling your sleeves all the way down and tugging your jacket. "It's just that.. I don't have the perfect figure for that.."

"Amour, Did I ask if you have the perfect figure for this?"

"Huh?.."

Vil sets the dress down on an empty seat, heels tapping on the floor as he walks towards you. He unclips one of his hairclips, tucking your hair behind your ear and clipping it, exposing the scar on your cheekbone.

You want to look away, but Vil has his hand at the back of your head, forcing you to look at him.

You raise your hand up to cover the scar, but Vil only takes your hand away with his other hand. "Don't." He commands you.

You feel so nervous, it's almost making you sick. It felt like the whole area was suffocating you, until Vil kisses the scar on your cheekbone. "It makes you more beautiful." He whispers, his hand letting go of your head. "Whoever made you this insecure must face the wrath of me. Or, Rook."

"Please not Rook." You manage to whisper. "Oh yes Rook." He smiles. Well, To start with, It's not a kind smile. A devious smile, that is. "They wouldn't want a someone who can follow them until they start running, do they?" He tilts his head slightly to the left, A glint of evil in his eyes.

You thought about it again, Rook does follow Vil's orders.. Meaning whatever Vil commands Rook to do, will be done. You want it to happen but you also don't. "Amour, I think you would look rather ravishing in this outfit." He speaks in a hushed tone.

You don't want to argue with him, so you just swiftly take the dress and walk to the nearest dressing room.

Vil waits for you patiently, Forget trying out the clothes he got, He'll keep you company. Afterall, he already knows the clothes would look good on him.

You come out of the dressing room, appearing infront of him. You see his eyes sparkle in seeing you wearing such a dress. But even if you saw his eyes sparkle, You still covering your stomach with your arms. "Yeah.. It's not what you expected.."

"You're right." Vil nods. You look at him, like you already knew he was gonna say that. "Mhm- I'll just change back-"

"No. I didn't expect you to look more beautiful than my imagination."

"What?.."

Vil looks vacantly at you, smiling. "You look so stunning, I mean." He walks up to you, taking notice of the clip still on the same spot where he clipped it. "[Name], My love, I don't understand why you always hide your beauty." Vil gently pulls you by the arm, bringing you closer to him as he guides you to a mirror.

"Look at you, You look breathtaking." He hugs you from behind. "I could look at you 24/7 and never get bored." He adds, one of his hands moving up to cup both of your cheeks, squishing it twice times. "You don't need anyone else's comments about yourself. I can only do that, and all of them are gonna be positive comments."

Your heart softens at his words. "Really?" You ask him. "Really, You have no idea how joyful I am when I see you so confident and happy."

"You look so ravishing no matter what you wear, why hide it?" Vil queries. You have nothing else to answer it because you don't even know why you hide your beauty. "Answer me, Amour." He spins you around and traps you in his arms. You face him, your eyes immediately looking at his eyes.

"I- Don't actually know.." You mumble. "See? You don't even know why. So just please, don't hide it." Vil pleads, You feel a bit bad for making him beg for you to just be more confident in yourself. "It's hard to be confident in myself.." You tell him, as he only lets out a hum.

"It takes time to build up confidence, I am not asking you to be confident as soon as possible, I just want you to know that you are very beautiful."

His words make you jelly. But, It did help you a bit. "Mm, maybe you're right." You chuckle softly. "I know I am, Now look at yourself and tell me, What do you see aside from me?" Vil turns you back around. You look at yourself at the mirror, removing your arms from your stomach.

"I see.. A very pretty person." You truthfully tell him. "And it's not me right?"

"Hm, No. If it was you I'd say handsome." You point out. He laughs lightly. "Alright, I'll believe you. Now if you would be a darling, could you look for more outfits that takes a liking to you?" Vil lightly pushes you. "Ah- Finee-" You walk in the dressing room, changing back in your attire from awhile ago.

You come out of the dress room, holding the dress in your arm. Vil pulls you closer to him, his hand firmly on your waist and the outfits he chose for himself hanging on his other arm. "Let's take our time to look for more things then after this let's go out and eat, My treat."

"Vil, Are you sure this already isn't a special date?" You look at him as you both walk around to search for more clothes. "Hm? No, We do this everyday, I spoil you rotten in shopping sprees, then we go out and eat. It's common for both of us."

That.. Is true. "Hm, True.." You shrug. "..Unless.. You want me to spoil you more?"

"Vil Schoenheit!"

"Haha, Just kidding."

Author's end note: Vil is putting me in a coma with all his romantic tactics. sOOOOO this is just a random thought while listening to Isabel LaRosa's newly released song!! It's favorite if you don't know, I recommend listening to it!! You should listen to it if you want to :o IT'S S0000 G00D.

! do not repost or translate my works anywhere. do not copy or use my works in any site, Reblogs are appreciated alot though !

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #vil schoenheit x yuu #gn reader

[gglitch1dd]

Hello! Could you please do a prohero!husband!deku x reader after an argument and deku is apologizing for blowing up at his wife after a long day? BTW I love your works!!

It's been a Long Day.

Husband Midoriya Izuku x Wifey Reader

Izuku walked through the door with a heavy sigh. He used his foot to close the door as he entered your shared apartment. His shoulders dropped at the fact that he was back home. He honestly was only looking forward to coming back here. He trudged past the entranceway, slipping off his shoes and putting on his slippers.

He started walking when he heard your voice.

"Izuku!" You let out, your head peaking out of the kitchen with a smile. He mustered a gentle smile for you despite not being in the mood. "You're back."

"I am." He answered back as he shuffled into the kitchen where you were busy.

"That's great! Because Mrs Hinata called and she wanted to know about the opening about the Little Heroes school and how we wanted to set up the dorm rooms." You started talking as he watched you just about finish lunch. He had gone to work at some unholy hour of night (or morning) and was only coming back now from a 18 hour shift. "I was thinking we can have two children in one room or do you think separate rooms are better?"

Izuku blinked, still not up to speed with what you were talking about. "Uh.."

"Do you think yellow is a good enough colour?"

"Well..."

"Who am I kidding, green is fine. Green, white, gold and black. Our colours should be fine. We can keep the girls rooms predominantly gold and white, and the boys rooms black and gold. Fine with you?"

"I guess-"

"Also Mr Fujita called about Angelica-Nina's vet bills."

Suddenly Izuku felt a headache. He bit back a groan as he put his a hand to his temple. It had been bothering him all morning and Lord knows he could use a nap. Normally he got headaches when he was drained or tired. "Hey sweetheart..." He started with his eyebrows furrowed. "Can we talk la-"

"He said that he sent you the bill but the pet insurance should cover at least sixty percent of that." You told him what you were told from the vet about your pet rabbit. You set out the dumplings, checking if they were ready.

Izuku scratched the back of his head. "I saw his email."

"Great! Your mother also called, she wanted to know whether or whether not we're coming over tomorrow? She's hosting the Bakugous remember?"

"The Bakugous? Then why is she asking us to come?" He asked as he moved to drop his bag on the table. He leaned back against the counter.

You paused for a moment before turning to look at him. You tilted your head confused. "Because she wants to? What's wrong with the Bakugous?"

Izuku let out a soft cynical chuckle as he kept his eyes closed. "What's wrong with the Bakugous? Well, nothing other than the fact that they are your ex's parents."

You paused as you grabbed a cloth, wiping your hands clean. "Yah, but they're good people they're very nice."

Izuku felt another pang of a headache hit him. He frowned. "No, Masaru is a good person, Mitsuki still wishes that you were with Katsuki."

You thought for a second. "No she doesn't."

"Yes she does."

"No, she doesn't."

"Y/N-"

"Izuku, the Bakugous and I are good friends. They designed our outfits for one of the galas we went to this year. I don't see what's the problem."

He sighed. "I-"

"Also you promised me that you'd make sure that you would fix the drawer upstairs." Another pang hit his head making him suck in a breath. He needs to lay down. He bit back a groan, everything feeling so loud. "I thought you'd get it done. And what about the rooms, you still haven't answered me on that. The opening is in two months and-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, Y/N, COULD YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING FOR LIKE 5 SECONDS PLEASE!" He shouted putting a hand to his head as he turned away from you for a moment.

He closed his eyes as he took a moment to let his headache subside. He took a deep breath before exhaling. It took him a moment before he finally felt like he could function again. He let out a sigh as he opened his eyes.

However you weren't there anymore. You were gone, out of the kitchen, leaving him alone. "Y/N?" He asked confused as he looked around. He didn't hear your voice answering him. He looked around for a moment. He paused when he realised he had blown up at you. He closed his eyes with a sigh. "Y/N! Y/N come back! I'm sorry." He apologised as he moved around to try and find you.

He didn't hear your steps going up the stairs so he knew you were still downstairs. He looked around, looking through open doors until he finally found you sitting in the rabbits' room, holding Valentino-Nino in your lap. The brown rabbit sat safely there allowing you to pet him.

Izuku stood at the doorway. "Y/N. I'm sorry." He apologised. You didn't respond. "I didn't mean it. Can you please not ignore me."

"I thought you wanted me to stop talking." You let out lowly.

Izuku turned around to put his back against the doorframe. He took a moment as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his head. "I'm sorry. I just had a long day and I've had this throbbing headache for the past few hours. I didn't mean to lash out at you like that." He said truthfully. You could hear how drained he was in his voice and you knew it was unlike Izuku to lash out at you even when he disagreed with you or was angry.

You looked down at your pet rabbit who had moved his head so that you would scratch under his chin. You sighed. "I'm sorry about your headache." You said softly as you looked down away from him. "I know you work so hard and I wasn't being considerate. I was just so excited to have you back home. I'm sorry."

Izuku's shoulders dropped as he looked down at you. He shook his head. "No sweetheart, no I'm sorry." He said seriously as he crouched down to sit down in front of you. He put a hand on your knee and you looked up to him. "You don't have to apologise. I love it when you're excited to see me and want to talk to me. Truly I do. You're the one easy thing in my day, my love." He gave you a genuine smile. "I just... it's been a long day."

You gave him a gentle smile. You pat his leg. "You should go freshen up and eat something so you can nap. I'm sure your headache is just because you're tired. They're just the body's way of saying we need rest or something's wrong" Your advice made Izuku sigh with a nod.

"That would be great."

You reached forward and placed a kiss on his face. "Okay."

-Glitch1d

#izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #mha x y/n #mha izuku #deku x reader #midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #midoriya x y/n #izuku x you #midoriya izuku x reader #deku x reader angst #deku x y/n #deku x you

[doromoni]

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 2 . Part 2 : For the World to See

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warning : Morally Grey Characters , Swearing

A/N : Buckle up , folks! This one’s smth else.

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

< Previous

Act 2. ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

All are fair in love and war. An overused idiom, but one that you believed was necessary for the actions you were about to do. You knew that it was wrong to use Max to get back on Lewis. But you were not perfect, far from it.

Not when your vision had clouded red as you looked at the picture that flashed on your phone’s screen. It was a photo of Lewis kissing another girl in a bar. It hasn’t been a month since your split with Lewis and he had the fucking audacity to pull this shit.

What’s worse is that over in that same month, Lewis had been trying to reach out and kept saying that he was sorry and that he’d change. Gifts and flowers kept appearing and delivered to your new apartment with written notes from Lewis. For some time, you considered taking the British driver back.

You even became guilty for the fact that your relationship with Max was developing into something more.

Now, you were glad that you started talking to the Dutch Red Bull Driver. It didn’t hurt that you found Max extremely attractive and desirable.

You couldn’t help it , the Dutch driver was aggressive and a menace on track, but when the helmet went off — he was the sweetest and the most caring partner a girl could ask for. The Max you’ve gotten to know, even for a short period was the perfect distraction.

It all started after you left your apartment with Lewis you went straight to Milton Keynes to meet with Christian Horner , where you bumped into Max.

He was doing a routine check-up, just to ensure that he was perfectly ok after the crash at Silverstone.

You felt partly at fault for his crash and guilt had driven you to apologize even if it wasn’t your actual doing. Max had laughed it off and jokingly said that he’d forgive you if you went out for coffee with him. And to your surprise, you found yourself agreeing.

The coffee went great, and your conversation with Max was easy. His humor was dry, yet you find yourself laughing and enjoying your time with the Dutch Driver.

“I watched Christian Horner, waiting for you to come out of Mercedes and act like he didn’t expect you when you bumped into him” Max exaggerated.

“Mhmm… your team principal would turn stalker mode just to tell me that I did a good job “ You laughed as you rolled your eyes at the handsome driver.

“I swear, Y/N. Checo and I were passing by and Christian was crouched down behind a bush! “

Max bluffed. Making you double over laughing.

Your coffee with Max then turned to lunch and lunch turned into dinner. Then that turned into traveling to Monaco in his private jet to attend the party for the drivers and team principals.

The speed of the development of your relationship with Max was starting to scare you. You and Lewis just broke up , you didn’t want to take advantage of Max’s affection for you.

You were staring at your reflection in the mirror. Your makeup was exquisite and your hair was perfectly done. The dress that Max bought for you fits like a glove. You looked perfect. But you couldn’t help but feel the pit in your stomach grow.

You knew that you would be facing Lewis and Toto at some point tonight and honestly you weren’t sure that you were ready just yet.

But You didn’t want them to see you as weak and helpless . If they could move on easily then you’ll play along. You’ll beat them at their own game.

With a final swipe of lipstick. You were ready

“Max?” You called out to the room

“Am in the living room” Max replied

You walked out of the bathroom and headed your way towards Max. Your Louboutin heels clicked with every step on the marble floor.

As you neared the Dutch Driver. His head turns towards you and his eyes widen as they travel your form, repeatedly.

Max made his way towards you. You were both silent. Max took your hand and he brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of your wrist — your eye contact never breaking.

“Gorgeous, you look absolutely beautiful” Max uttered spinning you slowly.

“Thank you. You look handsome Max” You said a bit breathless. Handsome was an understatement, Max looked like a Greek god. Not many times do people see him outside RedBull uniforms, but when they do, people gawk at the driver — you were no exception.

“I love you in black, have I told you that?” You said as you slid your hands up Max’s chest feeling every muscle on your path.

“Mhm, you have. Have you noticed that I’ve been wearing just that recently?” Max countered as he pulled you closer by the waist.

“ I have, and I never did thank you. And I’m sure that your fans thank you too.” You winked at the Red Bull driver, making him chuckle and roll his eyes

“The thirst traps are everywhere, don’t remind me” At that you couldn’t help but laugh as you had sent him some links.

“ Toughen up, you’ll be getting more when you’re World Champion”

“When, not If? you’re that confident in me?” Max grip strengthened without him noticing. You knew that he had issues believing in himself. And you knew who was the reason for that.

“Yes, When. Your potential is unlike any other Max! I believe that you will be breaking records and earning championships left and right one day. “ You truly believed what you said. You felt Max kiss your temple as he whispered “Thank you, Y/N.”

Max was never the speaking kind when it came to emotions. So his opening up even a little was an enormous step.

What did that mean for your blurry relationship? You didn’t know. But it was a step somewhere for sure.

“Now come on! We’re already late.” You tugged on Max’s hand towards the door of his suite.

***

Arriving at the venue, your nerves had finally set in and you were starting to feel a little anxious.

“Hey, are you alright? We can ditch the party if you don’t feel like it” Max whispered to you concerned.

You have never been used to being in fancy balls all glammed up, even in your time with Mercedes and Lewis being your boyfriend. Being that your relationship was kept a secret, you have never joined Lewis to the Galas and Balls.

But now, Max Verstappen was guiding you towards the entrance with pride — not shying away from the cameras and the people who greeted us. He was proud to show you off.

“No, no. Just a bit apprehensive seeing Toto, that’s all” you said back

“Oh! Are you nervous that when you see him you’ll shred him to pieces? Got it” Max tried to joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as you affectionately hit his chest lightly.

“Exactly that! You do get me, Max Emilian Verstappen” You joked back, feeling thankful for Max.

“But really, don’t be scared. I’m here and I promise to protect you. No matter what”

You gazed up at the Dutch driver with so much emotion.

“Thank you, Max” Now it was your turn to say thank you.

You and Max had led yourselves toward the drivers of Ferrari

“Max! You’re finally here!” Charles exclaimed not fully realizing that you were there. His eyes lingered on you as if he was trying to know who you were.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to realize. Max was amused, while Carlos had finally figured out who you were.

“Y/N??” The monegasque driver gasped

“Took you long enough, Charles” You smiled at the Ferrari driver, while Max and Carlos had their conversation.

You and Charles weren’t that close but you two were friends, because of Seb. While you and Seb were close to a certain degree — you had been there during his battle with Lewis and you just naturally formed a friendship around that.

“I haven’t been seeing you in Mercedes. Is everything all right?” Charles asked.

“The NDA stops me from saying anything. But all I can say is that I’m happy that I left” You explained to Charles with a dry chuckle.

And forever the gossiper, Charles could not help but ask

“So is it true? You’re moving to Red Bull?”

“Well ~ you need to find out for yourself eh?” You winked at the Monaco-born driver. You have grown thirsty so you went to get something to drink.

Max looked like he was in deep conversation still with Carlos, so you just went your way.

As you ventured your way towards the refreshments, you were stopped by heathen himself, The boss that tried to screw you over.

Toto fucking Wolff.

Your feeling of anxiety had turned to hatred and anger in an instant. Maybe Max was right with you ripping the Mercedes Principal to shreds.

“ It’s a surprise to see you here, Y/L. Did Red Bull send you an invitation? “ Toto said with hidden condescension.

You chuckled at the audacity. He was once again trying to belittle you.

“ I find that hard to believe, considering that you monitor my every step. Heard about Red Bull huh? Keeping tabs on me Wolff? Scared to lose? ” You mockingly tutted the principal.

“Why would I even do that? Mercedes is better without you! Good fucking riddance . We will win this Championship without you!“ Toto rebutted, the anger in his face was rising.

“Mhmm, sure. Now say that again , this time like you actually believe it” you said so patronizingly with the sweetest, tooth-rotting smile you could muster.

“FUCK YOU!” Bingo! Toto fucking Wolff had reached his limits. And for the first time, you enjoyed every last bit.

But you were nowhere near finished.

“Aww, thanks! Fuck you too. But please do tell me, Toto, just how much money did you lose when investors started pulling out when I left?” The sweet smile on your lips turned menacing

You were in the hell hole of Mercedes for 6 years, you knew their sore spots like it’s the back of your hand. And money was one of them.

“ You know Torger, one might ask, if you say your specialty is managing a business and you’re losing money now. Would that mean that your existence in Mercedes is fucking useless?” You asked with faux interest, a finger underneath your chin as a Cheshire grin spread across your face.

You could see the red rising in the Mercedes Principal’s Face and any minute now he would explode in rage.

“Oh! And also, how’s next year’s car going for you?” And you did just that. You broke Toto fucking Wolff in front of everyone.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! HOW DARE YOU? I SWEAR I’LL KI—“ Toto had started to close the distance between the two of you with his fist inbound.

But before he could land a blow at you, He was forcefully pulled at the collar and restrained with an arm twisted to his back.

And it was all done by Max Verstappen. He had been watching you the entire time and he believed that you could hold your own. He knew that you could fight your own battles. But even then Max knew when to step up and save you from getting hurt.

However, no matter how much Max tried to protect you, he was still one person. He could prevent Lewis Hamilton from dragging you somewhere where no one was to see.

“What the fuck Y/N?? What even was that?!” Lewis bombarded you with questions. His grip on your wrist proved to be painful by the second

“Fucking let go of me, Lewis!” You yanked your hand away from him.

“What are you even doing here with Verstappen?! Seriously Y/N?? Crashstappen? Out of everyone you chose the enemy? We just broke up and now you’re all over him?” Lewis said so venomously, and with so much disgust that would’ve probably hurt you if anger didn’t consume your system

“You’re the one to talk Lewis!! You’re the first one to fucking dip your dick into another girl! You don’t have the right to judge me! “

“So is this how it is, Y/N? YOU'RE CHOOSING HIM OVER ME?!” Lewis went hysterical and you were just the same and neither of you cared if anyone were to hear you.

“You know what Lewis?! Yes, I’m choosing Max over you! Because, unlike you, He makes do with his promises and he isn’t embarrassed to call me his!”

You stormed out on Lewis. Tears were rolling down your face — you were not sad no, you were angry and frustrated about everything about your past from Mercedes to Lewis Hamilton.

You found yourself inside the lady's room, walking back and forth. You looked at yourself in the mirror and mascara had run down your cheeks. You have tried to wipe it when you heard a voice from outside.

“Y/N? Are you ok in there? Can we talk? ” Max knocks from the other side of the bathroom door. His voice held concern and panic

You slowly opened the door, facing the Dutch driver who was clad in an expensive Italian suit, perfectly tailored for his form.

“Max … before anything happens. I need to tell you something about Lewis and me” You couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. Your sights on the shoes that you chose for him.

Your eyes shift upward, as you feel Max’s finger on your chin lifting your face up

“Y/N, I know. And I don’t care” Shock was evident in your face. You thought that your relationship with Lewis was undiscovered. But all this time Max knew

“M-max, I'm so sorry. I swear, I’m not using you as a rebound” You tried to explain yourself. You expected Max to be angry and you left.

But to your surprise, Max‘s hands found their way to your waist pulling you closer. And the words that left his mouth next left you speechless.

“ I don’t care Y/N. As long as I have you by my side, do whatever you want — I’m yours. Use me”

***

“You’ve sent the pictures of Hamilton to her number?”

“Yes , Sir. Verstappen. It’s accomplished.”

Taglist : @vicurious28 @xoscar03 @barnestatic @stelena-klayley @sopheeg @imagandom @4-20-21-12 @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e @minkyungseokie @d3kstar @kimialaia @cosmicwintr @younxii @ssrcsm @paigem00 @seokjinkismet @wcnorris @jayjay11122 @embersparklz @sam-is-lost @peterholland04 @luckyladycreator2 @lovemesomeescapism @yettobedetermined7 @nikfigueiredo @ironmaiden1313 @alliwantisadonut @uuoozzii @marshmummy @kemillyfreitas @yaesflorist @zoeyjadetice2010 @splaterparty0-0 @likedbygaslyy @myinternettlifeimagine @ilamara @pluviophilefangirl @starssfall @haydensith @adoreleeknw @leilanixx @dr4g0ngirl @forfeityourbugs @choisannyreads @justtprachisblog

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #red bull racing #max verstappen #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv1 x y/n #mv1 x you #mv1 fic #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv1 #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis x reader #lh44 imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 #team lh44 #mercedes formula one #formula 1 fanfic #mercedes amg f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

[psuedosugu]

you stopped by suguru’s dorm one day and knocked on the door, only meaning to check up on him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

୨୧・he had been…..different lately. he was losing weight and had dark eyebags, he was quieter and barely went out besides missions and school

୨୧・you worried for him, and you missed talking to him, so you stopped by, hoping he didn’t shoo you away.

୨୧・”who’s there?” you heard a faint voice from behind the door.

୨୧・”its [name]! can i, uh, come in?” he paused, hesitating. his room was a mess and so was he, he couldn’t let you see him like this! but he couldn’t just turn you down. the truth was, he had been missing you too.

୨୧・”i guess you can come in..” he said, and you opened the door. his dorm was messy, and you found him, sprawled out in his bed.

୨୧・”hey suguru..” you said, starting to pick up a few things from the floor and looking around, trying to find out where they go.

୨୧・”oh,” he started, “you really don’t have to clean, its fi-“ you shushed him.

୨୧・”so…uhh, why’d you come over?” he asked, getting up from his bed. it would be pretty shitty, he thought, to make you clean his dorm on your own.

୨୧・“because i missed you.”

୨୧・“…..why?”

୨୧・“because you haven’t been talking lately,” you pause, “and im starting to get worried.”

୨୧・”i just….i didn’t think you would notice much…or care. satoru and shoko don’t.” he sighed.

୨୧・”well, im not satoru, or shoko, and im sure they care too. they’re just busy.”

୨୧・”……you really don’t have to be here, im fine on my own.”

୨୧・”well, yeah, i know i don’t have to be here, but i wanna be here. i wanna help you through….whatever you’re going through,” i say, shooting him a soft smile. he smiles back, trying to ignore the heat rising up to his face.

୨୧・so thats how you two spent the rest of the afternoon, cleaning, which would be boring in any other situation, but being with eachother made it all okay.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

i do requests!

check out my masterlist!

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader

[mydarlingem]

ever since we met

guys we are SO BACK i bring gifts <3 didnt realize how much i would miss writing on here. currently working on rewriting old work and new stuff so i can get back to posting on a weekly basis. hope you have been well and enjoy!!

cw. sakusa kiyoomi eats pussy, what more could you need

wc. 1800

you met sakusa kiyoomi two years ago when he took over his father’s business. every monday and saturday at 4 pm, he knocked on the back door of your flower shop. big boxes filled with one the best flowers for you. it was also two years ago when you first opened the door for him that you realized you loved him. he was so sweet and kind, always taking time to ask about you and following up on events in your life. you figured he did this with everyone on his route. little did you know that your sweet kiyoomi did not ask questions about any of his other deliveries.

he was determined to get to know you, however long it took him. he knew the movies you saw, the terrible dates you went on, your favorite flowers and your least favorite customers. no detail was too small for him, because he did care about it all. he liked your passion for your work and your love for the people around you. ever since he knocked on that door monday at 4 pm two years ago he has loved you. he knows it crazy, and he can't rationalize it for the life of him but he knows it's the truth. he knows you probably don't reciprocate but god he can't help it.

“hey kiyoomi what did you bring for me today?” you say with a smiled as you prop open the door for him. the way you say his name makes him weak in the knees, he loves how comfortable you are around him. “besides my beautiful face, everything you had on your list and an extra case of snapdragons because i know you always run out by thursday.” he smiles at you and sets down the boxes. “you really are the best thank you” you say as you walk back over to the counter to continue cleaning roses. “how are you today my favorite florist?” he asks as he sets down the last three boxes in their designated spot. “busy and understaffed” you sigh. “glad to know things always stay the same around here” he smiles and hands you a clipboard for a signature.

he likes the way you sign your name, he can't explain it but it suits you. “you know you are the last delivery of the day, so is there anything i can do to help out?” he takes the clipboard back from you as you hold back from speaking for a moment. “i have so much to do are you sure?” you ask hoping it's not just pity. “i'm here for whatever you need” he says as he takes his hoodie off and sets his things down. you never realized how many tattoos he has, or how big his biceps were. maybe him staying was good for morale. “would mind cleaning some mums for me?” he nods and steps to the counter to start.

its quiet for a little, the silence isn't awkward though. you look over at him, he's so efficient. his hands are so perfect, how is he so perfect? his voice snaps you out of your trance. “how was that date you had last week?” he asks, not looking up from the flowers in his hands. “lets just say i won’t be seeing him again” you exhale softly, mentally pleading that the very attractive man across from you will not ask you to embarrass yourself further. kiyoomi laughs softly before speaking again, “i can't believe we have never hung out outside of work” he says as he continues to clean flowers. his heart was racing at this point, you made him so nervous he was hoping you couldn’t tell.

“i know it's so crazy! we have to do something soon” you say with a smile. “well what are you doing this weekend? there’s a new bar i want to check out and i’d love to take you.” “if i didn't know any better i would think you were asking me out on a date kiyoomi” you smile before looking up at him and making eye contact with him. “and what if i am?” he says still smiling, your cheeks were so hot, was he messing with you? “well i'd think you were joking” you say trying to control the tone of your voice. he sets his flowers down as he makes his way to the other side of the table where you stand with shaky hands.

“oh im dead serious pretty girl” he runs his hand along your jaw tilting your chin towards his face. he's smiling at you like you hung and the moon and stars just for him. hes so close all you can smell is his cologne, god did he always smell this good? you aren’t sure who leans in first but your lips touch and suddenly everything feels so right. hes holding your face in his hand but slowly becoming so desperate as he kisses you. the cold metal of his lip piercings feels so good against your lips. you can't seem to get enough of him and you wrap your arms around his neck. he taps your thighs as you wrap your legs around him, he gently sets you on the counter. he breaks away from the kiss breathless and rests his head against your shoulder “you're so perfect” he all but whimpers against the skin of your neck.

“i've wanted to kiss you for so long” you say as he kisses your neck, and you run your hands through his soft hair. he moans softly at the contact and lifts his head up to kiss you again. standing in between your thighs he wraps his hands around your waist, smiling into the kiss. he can't believe this moment is real, he can't believe he finally worked up the courage to to act on his feelings. the all too familiar jingle of the front door opening snaps the both of you out of your bliss. “fuck” you say as you hop off the counter, ���hi ill be right there." you look back to kiyoomi “will you please stay i promise i'll be so quick”. he smiles “dont worry im not going anywhere sweetheart.” you smile and kiss him on the cheek before running off to the front.

this might be the happiest he’s ever been. you’re so soft and sweet and oh my god he loves how gentle you are with him. he loves the effect he has on you, in fact he may just never move from this spot in the hope that you kiss him like that again. “thank you have a great day” you chirp as your voice breaks him out of his trance. you appear into the doorway to the back of the door with a smile. “hi” you say as you make your way back over to him, “hi sweet girl” he wraps his arms around you again. “i close in about 30 minutes, will you come home with me?” you ask shocked by your own boldness. the way you are looking at him he thinks he might die. “god i'll be wherever you want me.” the effect you had on him was unreal. “let me drop off my truck and i'll be back in fifteen”, “be quick” you say as you twirl his hair with your fingers. have you always been this hot?

kiyoomi was convinced was losing his mind. he has never moved faster in his life. he doesn't even remember driving his motorcycle back to your shop. all he knew is that he was walking back into your shop with more determination than he's ever felt before. “hi handsome” you say as he drapes his body against yours. “almost done?” he asks as he kisses your cheek. “i have about fifteen minutes before i can go but i'm all done.” you turn to kiss him as he plays with the waistband of your jeans. the kiss is messy and hot, he felt weak in the knees. “i can think of a few things to pass the time” he says as he breaks away from the kiss.

you smile looking up at him, his face was flushed and you could help but be proud of the effect you had on him. “please let me eat you out” your jaw drops at his words. “here?” you ask and he grins “here” he says as he drops to his knees in front of you. you could finish from just looking at this beautiful large man on his knees in front of you. “god please” he's quick to unzip your pants and slide them down your legs. he places small kisses along your thighs as he moves to put your legs on his shoulders. he kisses you through your underwear and you whimper softly. sliding your underwear to the side he starts softly using his tongue, and puts a finger inside you as he continues.

you grip his hair and squeeze your thighs against his head as he quickened his pace. “harder” he whimpers into you and you squeeze harder. god his tongue piercing is incredible. you are getting close to finishing, and he can tell. he moans into you like this is pleasuring him just as much as it is you. “more kiyo” you moan out. he moves faster as he inserts another finger. the nickname could have made him cum in his pants. you are quickly approaching your high as you stutter out an “im close” he's moving faster than before, focused on you and only you. he's eating you out like a man starved, the cold metal of his piercing mixed with the warmth of his fingers had you seeing stars.

you moan his name as you finish and he cleans you up with his tongue. your legs were shaking as he stands up and licks the rest of you off of his slender fingers. “you're so incredible” you say as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him, the taste of you still on his tongue. “i've been dying to do that for two years” he says as he pulls away from you. “i love you kiyoomi” you say looking him in the eyes, "i've been dying to tell you that for two years" mustering the courage to confess everything to him. “god i love you” he says cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you again. “i love you i love you i love you” he says softly in between kisses. "ill spend forever making you feel it."

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader smut