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gimmethatagustd · 3 months

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morals on sundays | myg

You're still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

○ Pairing: BFF!Yoongi x f!Reader

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Friends with benefits, angst, smut, fluff

○ 6 / 100 Drabble Challenge (FWB)

○ Word Count: 2,177

○ Warnings: MC's boyfriend cheated on her, post-breakup blues, questionable decision making, fingering so good you'll try to run away from it, pussy eating, too much tongue sucking probably, Yoongi is a boob guy, they have matching Spongebob and Patrick coffee mugs so why aren't they married?? Idiots

○ Notes: Shout out to @sailoryooons for also writing about a daegu boy eating pussy tonight 😌 And, as usual, I wrote this with scrambled eggs for brains and didn't proofread it, so if you see any errors, no you didn't

○ Post Date: January 22, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? Imported - Jessie Reyez ft. 6LACK

Lately, you’ve felt like disappearing – not into a crowded city street in another country or down an unlit dirt road into the unknown, but into the warm folds of Yoongi’s hoodie. You’re already halfway there, with your fingers interlaced with his, shoved into the large front pocket, and your face tucked into his shoulder.

“Fuck, I hate taking the bus,” he curses, his words turning into a cloud that disappears into the cold air.

“How much time do we have?”

Yoongi turns his head, and his lips briefly touch the cold curve of your ear.

“You’re mumbling. What’d you say?”

“How much time until it comes?” You squint up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder. It’s too warm here to want to move.

“Can’t check the app on my phone unless you give me my hands.”

“No.”

Yoongi chuckles and jostles your head by bobbing his shoulders.

“I thought our date would cheer you up.” His complaint is playful, eyes sparkling in the streetlights when he returns his gaze to the empty road. You should have gotten a taxi.

“I’m gonna die alone. Doesn’t matter how much late-night pizza I eat or how many stupid action movies I watch,” you grumble into Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Even when the action movie lead has a super hot sex scene that’s poorly timed and irrelevant to the plot?”

“Nope.”

“Even when the coolest guy on the entire planet was the one who took you?” Yoongi smiles cheekily, his gaze back on you. He wiggles his shoulders again, hard enough to bounce your head.

Annoyed, you straighten up, hands still shoved in his pockets. The movie wasn’t that bad. The pizza was actually great. You’re just depressed.

“I didn’t think it would take this long…” You whisper into the little space between your body and Yoongi’s. He knows you aren’t talking about the bus.

Yoongi squeezes your hands inside his hoodie. The rest of you might be freezing in the winter night air, but at least Yoongi keeps your hands warm. He keeps your heart warm, too, with his sincere gaze when he looks at you.

“You were too good for him.”

Yoongi’s right. He’s always right.

You’re sufficiently frozen by the time the bus finally arrives. Yoongi pays for you both because he’s trying to make life easy. No bumps in the road, no unnecessary stress. He lets you sit in a window seat so you can stare out at the blurry night scenery and have your sad main character moment for as long as it takes to get to your apartment.

Once you arrive, he follows you inside and heads straight to the kitchen while you slump down the hall to your bedroom. The cold seeps so deeply into your bones that the sweatpants and sweater you change into barely help increase your body temperature.

Maybe it’s because the sweatpants and sweater are your ex-boyfriend’s, and the universe wants to keep your body as cold as his heart was.

In the kitchen, Yoongi uses a wooden spoon to stir hot chocolate in a small pot, your favorite kind that comes in a block of chocolate that melts with milk. It’s likely been years since Yoongi has made you hot chocolate. Cozy winter nights indoors were once commonplace, the two of you alternating between apartments to make each other snacks and treat cuddles like currency. The appearance of your ex put an end to the comfort you shared with Yoongi. It put an end to most things that brought you comfort.

As you expect, Yoongi has two mugs out on the counter. You reach for yours, twisting it in your hands as you wait for him to finish.

“Remember when Spongebob tried to become best friends with Squidward instead of Patrick?” Yoongi asks, turning off the stove. He uses a ladle to pour hot chocolate into his pink mug, then pours some into your yellow one.

“Yes.”

“He was Squidward. I’m just mad I didn’t get to blow up his house–” Yoongi laughs and nearly spills his drink when you smack him in the arm, “–with bubbles! With bubbles. I’m not homicidal.”

Rolling your eyes, you set down your mug next to Yoongi’s, both drinks too hot to drink quickly.

“Thank you,” you mumble, hooking your finger into his hoodie pocket and tugging lightly, the action absentminded. You keep your eyes cast downward because you don’t want him to see your tears if they run. “I’m sorry I’ve been in such a shitty mood. I know it’s been a while, but, it just… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about him, and everything fucking hurts…”

Yoongi slips his fingers under your sleeve and circles your wrist, pulling your hand away from his pocket so he can lace your fingers together. They’re so much warmer now, defrosted by the heat blasting through your apartment and Yoongi’s hot chocolate.

“Maybe you could start by not wearing his clothes?” Yoongi offers quietly. “Can’t imagine it’s easy to get over someone when you keep them on your body like that.”

You sniffle and nod. Again, Yoongi is always right.

“Easier said than done…” you mumble, giving him a weak smile when you finally meet his eyes. There’s something there in his expression, something that seems different.

You don’t move away when Yoongi steps closer, even when he has you backed against the counter, even when you feel like you’re going to swallow your heart.

“I could take them off for you,” Yoongi says softly. He lets go of your sleeve to pinch the hem of your sweater, tugging it lightly. “If you can’t do it, I can.”

“Yeah?” You feel out of breath, maybe because you suck in your stomach when Yoongi’s fingers brush against it.

“Yeah,” he echoes, fingers sliding along your ribs as he pushes your sweater up. “So you can get over him.”

It’s a terrible idea, but your stomach flutters when he looks at you with sleepy eyes weighed down by the late hour and lust. He bites his bottom lip, and you feel your resolve slip as easily as Yoongi’s fingers do beneath your clothes.

“I want to.” The declaration is desperate, and for a moment, you can’t do anything but stare into Yoongi’s eyes with an all-consuming sadness that eats at your insides, gnawing on bones and biting holes into your lungs. “God, Yoongi, I want to.”

Yoongi touches his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes because he’s too close and you’re too much of a coward.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers. His voice is as gentle as his hands on your bare waist, his thumbs caressing your sensitive skin.

You raise your arms for Yoongi to pull off your sweater. He’s confident when he squeezes your tits, doesn’t even seem caught off guard when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under the sweater. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples as he leans in to kiss you, his tongue tasting sweet from the hot chocolate when he flicks it against yours.

“Yoongi,” you call out with an airy sigh that harmonizes nicely with the sound of him sucking open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“Hmm?” Yoongi hums against the base of your throat, the vibration sending a tingling sensation straight to your clit. He keeps one hand on the counter beside your waist, caging you in, while his other hand cups your pussy over your sweatpants.

“Oh,” you gasp, your hands immediately finding Yoongi’s firm shoulders when he starts rubbing your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers lower to press against your entrance, soaking the fabric.

“These are his, too, right?”

“Y-yes,” you moan as Yoongi pulls down your sweatpants, taking your underwear with them.

You can’t say you never thought about how attractive Yoongi is; it’s hard to ignore. It’s just that Yoongi is your best friend. If anything were to happen between the two of you, you don’t know if you’d be able to survive losing him, too. You love him.

But you also love your ex.

It’s hard to think about that, though, with two of Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of your pussy. They’re long, reaching deeper than your own can when you finger yourself, always late at night when you’re lonely. It never feels good after. The clarity always seems to hit too quickly, like being dunked in a pool of ice water.

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since another person touched you, since you found out your ex-boyfriend had been cheating on you. You didn’t realize how much you missed it until you’ve got your head thrown back and your thighs quivering as Yoongi fucks you with his fingers. You nearly climb up the counter, both wanting him to touch you more and trying to get away because it’s too good.

Your ex never searched for the spot that would make your legs shake, but Yoongi does. He curls his fingers against your front wall and keeps up his rhythm, moving with your body when you can’t control where it goes.

“Fuck, right there.” You’re burning up, veins turned to lava that’s rushing toward your core as Yoongi fucks you closer and closer to your orgasm until you’re on the verge of tears because you haven’t been touched in so long and you’re so lonely and you weren’t good enough. You weren’t enough.

“Wanna make you cum,” Yoongi groans, deep and gravelly, between licking a stripe up your tits and sucking your nipples.

“Please,” you moan, “Please, I’m so close.”

Your arousal gushes around his fingers, slicking them up and making your pussy squelch when Yoongi flutters them inside you. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, almost too hard. It stops you from bucking your hips, but you can barely stand as it is.

Yoongi’s lips are back on yours, red from sucking your nipples until it hurt. He whispers against your lips and opens his mouth to let you suck on his tongue with a pathetic whimper.

“Not yet, though.”

“Wha– Yoongi, no–” It’s embarrassing how loudly you cry out when Yoongi slips his fingers out of your pussy. You feel the fire in your core simmer until you’re left with a painfully throbbing clit and your juices smeared on your inner thighs.

“Shhh, you know I always take care of you.” Yoongi shuts you up with a bite to your bottom lip. He leans down slightly to squeeze the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto the counter. “Lean back.”

The cold marble counter sends shivers across your body, but it can’t keep up with the heat of Yoongi’s mouth on your pussy. He kisses your lips so gently that you think you might actually cry before he pushes your thighs back, opening you up.

“Oh fuck,” you moan as Yoongi goes straight for your clit, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue around it. You dig your hands into his hair and tug the strands hard enough to make him moan into your pussy. “Use your, use–”

Yoongi laps at your clit in quick, consistent bursts that fall in line with the tempo he’s fucking you to with two fingers again. His free hand presses against your lower abdomen, keeping your body taunt so you don’t buck into his face or curl inward. It’s bad enough that you can’t stop your legs from shaking when one rests on his shoulder and the other drapes over the crook of his arm.

It’s messy and loud, Yoongi licking and sucking your pussy like he really is trying to empty your mind of everything but the way the tip of his hot, wet tongue feels swirling your clit and the stretch of his fingers when he slips a third inside you and focuses on massaging the sensitive part of your walls. It’s working. He completely consumes your senses, down to how gorgeous he looks staring at you from between your thighs.

Your Yoongi, fingerfucking you and sucking your clit like you’re his favorite meal.

You try not to bang your head against the counter when you finally cum, instead focusing the overwhelming energy into pulling Yoongi’s hair to keep his face in your pussy.

He continues fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, to the point that you can’t lie still any longer.

“Yoongi, oh my god, Yoongi, it’s too much,” you whimper and gasp, thighs closing around his head until he finally eases his fingers out of you.

Strings of your arousal connect his lips with your pussy until he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip, cutting them off. His bangs are pushed off his forehead and his hair sticks up from you pulling on it, but his eyes sparkle and his cheeks are just as rosy as his pink, slicked-up lips.

“Shit,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning over you on the counter to kiss you. He shoves his tongue in your mouth and lets you suck your juices from it.

You think you taste better on Yoongi’s tongue than on your ex’s.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

@jooniesxbby @seokteoksworld @taegeum @dprmoon @chimmisbae

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi angst #bts angst #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #mos #100 drabble challenge

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venuiscmind · 2 months

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i was replaying part two and all i can think of is the scene where dina and ellie talk about if anyone is still making movies. imagine ellie doing everything she can to find a camera so you and her can make your own type of movies ?? id explode.

Only on Camera (Ellie Williams x reader smut) 18+

Hiiiiii. Loved the request and has been on my mind ever since you asked for it. Bartender Ellie is still on the way but this just inspired me so much!!! ( also this was written at 3am so pls ignore any errors ooph) (W.C 3k)

Scissoring, tribbing, fingering, oral, making out, spit play (only a tiny bit), squirting, pet names.

read this.

</3.

If you asked Ellie, she'd tell you that she never thought she would be like one of those girls that she had seen on the smut magazines or pictures she had come across in patrols or in scavenges for trading material. The thought had briefly crossed her mind while she was on a patrol with Dina, and she had asked her if she thought 'Was anyone still making movies out there.' but she kept her lips firmly shut.

Then she had actually discovered those tapes in Eugene’s Library.

Ellie never watched them whenever she returned to the library, but she was a woman possessed. She had to make trips back whenever she was patrolling the creek trails with Dina, and she would always take some weed back with her to trade or to smoke with you. She had even began trading the leaves with the others in Jackson swapping them for little things that she thought you would love like clothes, certain snacks or trinkets you would store in safe places.

She loved seeing you happy and sometimes wished she could capture these moments of you smiling up at her or hugging her to say thank you forever. Make them permanent and tangible so she could hold onto it for the rest of her life.

That was when she thought back on those tapes again. Not thinking of the girls or what they were doing on them but of you, and how you would look better on camera than any of them. Clothes on or not.

And that was how it started. Her signing in at any patrol spot and then begging her partner to give her an hour to turn the place over to find what she was looking for. She began expanding her search to places that weren't necessarily on the patrol route but still needed to be checked out, schools, malls that seemed to be as stocked as could be in the apocalypse, certain houses that hadn't been too badly ransacked and lone stores that could have what she needed.

Nothing. To say she was getting frustrated was an understatement, but she didn't give up. She wanted to try. So, she kept looking and bribing her partner to look the other way. Then one day it clicked. After weeks of ransacking and mauling properties she looked in the place where it had all started. She tied Shimmer outside of Eugene's library and got to work immediately.

Finally in one of the drawers she found a handheld camera, still in good condition and as luck would have it still had storage. "Yes." She sighed into her frozen hands and silently thanked the soul of the now deceased Eugene. She stuffed the camera into her backpack and rode back to Jackson with a new stride in her step.

She didn't bring up the idea to you immediately, but she did bring the camera to show you. Despite her frantic search Ellie wanted to ease the idea of being on tape onto you as gently as possible. But it didn't take long for her to ask.

It was a rare evening that the both of you had off, Ellie relieved from her patrols for the day and you from your duties in the stables and gardens of Jackson. You spent it how you always did. At each other's respective houses, this time it was at Ellie's, and you had spent the day watching movies and keeping each other warm against the bitter cold of the town's winters.

You started off watching the first few films side by side, sharing a blanket, then Ellie took your legs and swung them over her lap in the name if making you comfier. Soon after you had simply gravitated towards each other, each movement had you growing closer, negating any space between the two of you until you had gotten close enough to sit in her lap.

You slid your leg on the other side of hers, so that you could straddle her and hear her ask a simple "you okay to keep going?" Your responses were always the same. A small kiss to her lips and a "yes els, keep going." mumbled against her lips.

The dim light of the movie, kept Ellie's flushed face visible to you as you stroked the side of her face and leaned in, being met by her halfway as she arched up to kiss you. You always felt so foggy whenever you kissed her.

Like all the heat in your body would suddenly flare up and you could short circuit. You felt as though your heartbeat had started for the first time and you couldn't get any oxygen into your lungs. But you didn't need any. Ellie was all you needed. With her hands gripping your waist before moving the soft flesh of your ass.

You moaned into her mouth at the touch, sliding your hands up into her hoodie palming her tits and sliding your tongue into her mouth which was already open and accepting you into her. Your heart suddenly swelled at this, feeling the love the girl under you held for you and only you.

Ellie leaned back and pulled away from you leaning her head against the arm of the couch, looking at you for a second, lips shiny with a small string of spit connecting the two of you together. She wanted to ask you desperately but didn't to make things weird now especially when she wanted to take care of you. You saw the furrow on her brow and whispered to her "Els, are you okay over there?" looking at the expression on her face. You moved to get off, but she kept her hands firmly planted before opening her eyes fully and settling them onto you.

"Y-yeah just wanted to ask you about something. You can a hundred percent say no, but I just wanted to see if you maybe wanted to-" "It's about that camera, isn't it?" You cut off your poor girl's rambles feeling she'd never actually ask and keep circling. You looked into her eyes lovingly and smiled softly, continuing to stroke the swells of her cheeks.

"I want to if you want to els." This caused Ellie to groan under you and offer reassurance of "we can stop anytime you want just say," or "we don't have to you know?". You knew she was assuming and worrying you were doing this for her, but the idea had popped into your head ever since she placed the camera into your hands. You wanted to make sure your love lasted forever. On film and with each other too. You lead Ellie to her bed, hand in hand and sat her down, kissing her before setting the camera up on her desk opposite the bed, facing the both of you before flicking it on and confirming the red dot was flickering.

You turned to her pulling your shirt over your head and placing it on her desk and heard her breath hitch at the act that she would have this captured on film forever.

You looked back at the girl on her bed, elbows holding her up as she leaned back on them gazing up at you with her shining green eyes. "C'mere." she said holding her hands out to you beckoning you over.

You took them and she pulled you down onto the bed, the movement causing you to realise how much slick had pooled between your legs and probably coated your underwear.

Ellie kissed your cheeks before pulling off her hoodie and her jeans, leaving her in a black wifebeater and her underwear. You took a shaky deep breath as she crawled in the space where your legs were open and lay on top of you, who wrapped your thighs around her middle in response to the intrusion of your space.

You helped her pull off your pants leaving you only in your underwear. You shivered and pulled her in for a kiss which she gave you but quickly pulled back in favour of getting up and gripping your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed to make sure the camera would get all of what you were giving her making your shriek at the sudden movement.

You huffed and cried out as she placed a kiss to your underwear. "shh" Ellie placated you rubbing her hands up your thighs to soothe you. She mouthed at you through the garments, listening to you shuffle and moan out at the contact. Her tongue traced around your clit before sucking on the bundle of nerves, making you cover your mouth as your jaw loosened and moans escaped your lips.

"Ellie, please don't tease I can't take it." you groaned, but the girl was through tormenting you, pushing your underwear aside to taste you properly, spitting on your clit before sucking in your clit again. She slid her fingers against your folds, feeling you shiver against her, as she pushed into you, and settled against the spongy spot inside you. She didn't stay still though, as per your request. She never was good at denying you anything.

She couldn't get enough of the taste sticking to her tongue and decided she wanted more before shoving her tongue inside of you after sliding her fingers out of you gently. You were so close you sobbed telling her and reached out to pull her short hair closer to your body scratching at the back of your neck. She loved when you did this groaning at the small bits of pain you were giving her she thought while her nose bumped against your clit due to your hips moving.

She hoped the camera wouldn't pick up on the way she was grinding against her own legs folded beneath her, to get some friction from the wetness in her underwear.

She felt you cream and cum around her tongue, she lapped up as much as she could, tasting the tartness and sweetness of you in her mouth as you came on her lips. She pulled away once she felt you whine, knowing you would be overstimulated too fast if she continued so she kissed her way back up your body, grasped your jaw and you opened your lips before she even said the word "open."

She let the liquid pool into her mouth then spat straight onto your outstretched tongue. She pushed her fingers into your mouth and felt you swallow around them. Ellie groaned watching you swallow yourself down with blown out pupils. "That's it." she said watching you, "My fucking good girl." You hummed, suckling on her thumb until there was nothing of you left to devour.

You leaned up to kiss her then whispered in her ear "want you on me els, please?" You leaned back feeling yourself clench around nothing, aching again to feel her again. Ellie let you wrap her arms around her neck, pressing your tits against hers and kissing up her jawline to try and convince her of something she was going to do from the start.

"Of course, baby." she whispered, kissing your cheeks back and cradling your head. She began taking off the rest of her clothes as you leaned back, letting her climb on top of you. She grabbed the back of your knees spreading them, moulding you into the position she wanted you in. You complied with her, running your hands down the lines of her abs, completely enamoured with the girl on top of you.

She sank down slowly biting her full lips between her teeth to bite back the moans that were threatening to escape them. You wanted to hear her though, so you grabbed onto her hips gently to start fucking back onto her, coaxing her voice out of her lungs. She gasped and moaned, feeling your clits bump and your collective wetness start to mix together. "holy fuck." she groaned. She would never get used to the feeling of grinding against you. Every time she did it, she felt like she was living for the first time.

She looked at you, blushing and trying to keep humping against her without finishing before her and had to close her eyes so as not to cum at the sight of it alone but fuck she was close. "Think I'm goanna cum oh shit-." She said cutting herself off as she felt the heat rise in her core and down to her clit as she felt herself tighten again. "so close els, cum on me please." You begged the girl above you.

She came listening to your babbling underneath you. Ellie gushed and came just as her clit glided up against you, completely coated in your slick and felt herself float out of her body as her eyes rolled back into her skull. She also felt herself gush and squirt around you, holding onto your hands to keep herself grounded and so she didn't fall off your quivering body. She triggered your own orgasm as she felt your folds shake, squeezing around nothing but her slick.

Once she finished panting and recovered from her orgasm she got up, remembering the camera was still on the both of you. She turned it off watching the light blink out and went back into bed after grabbing towels to clean you both. She dressed you in a shirt and kissed you.

"Thank you, pretty girl. Can't wait to watch it." She grinned looking over at you while tossing the camera between her hands, as you blushed and covered your face, before jokingly slapping her arm.

"As long as we watch it together, I want to see you squirt on me." It was her turn to blush at this, but she leaned in before closing her eyes to kiss you again and say, "Love you baby." in a hushed and enamoured tone.

"Love you too els." You said fondly, wrapping your arms around the girl, covering you both in her sheets and nuzzling her nose.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellei williams tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #the last of us part ii #tlou2 #ellie smut

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dungeonpuppykai · 1 month

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Hey sweetheart 😘 I really hope requests are opened and you don't mind me sending in a request 🤗

I thought of something where you and Bucky are close friends with huge feelings for each other but you're both too stubborn to admit. So one time you're having movie night at the compound and you take your spot besides Bucky, enjoying the closeness. As some intimate scene appears, you feel Bucky all tense up and excusing him, so you later find him in his room wondering what's wrong, and finally he admits that he got nasty thoughts about you doing all that to him so he had to leave. You think about his words and before he can back out, you push him on the bed, straddling him, riding him, giving you both the pleasure you held back for too long. Afterwards he's a huge cuddle bear and asks you to be his girl ? 🤗 Hope that's okay with you 🫶🏼

Hello! And yes, requests are open and you certainly can send them in! Yours is definitely okay with me and maybe a bit too okay because it made me stray from my usual hc form 😵‍💫 I really, really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! Happy reading 🩷

| Clueless |

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes | Avenger!Reader.

Warning(s): Kissing, unprotected p-in-v sex, cowgirl, nipple play, thumb sucking, Bucky's vibranium arm because I am a mental slut, Bucky mildly being the old man that he is, size kink, dirty talk, creampie, fluff. Minors do not interact.

"Bucky?" You call after softly knocking on his door before opening it. Your eyebrows furrow when you don't get a response and so you peek inside to scan the room.

You're about to turn on your heels and go look someplace else when you notice him on the balcony, back turned to you as he leans on the railing, a bottle in hand.

"Hey," he doesn't turn his head to look at you when you approach him. The super soldier probably already heard you when you were down the hall. "What happened? You didn't come back." You lean one arm against the balcony confine on the spot besides him, leaning your head to the side and watching him as he takes another swig.

Bucky takes his time swallowing, his heavy Adam's apple bobbing as he keeps his eyes trained on the grounds of the compound. His broad shoulders shrug only when he has gathered his thoughts a bit, legs shifting before he answers. "Just because." Your features scrunch in confusion.

What?

"Just because… what?" You voice your confusion and he sighs at your cluelessness. When he just shakes his head to himself you roll your eyes with a huff. "What, talk to me! What even happened?" The way he turns to his other side and his vibranium arm barricades you away from him pisses you off as you stomp to the other side.

Bucky has confusing moments like this sometimes that he eventually gets over but never provides you any explanation for them.

"Bucky, I can only know if you tell me…" You try though you know it'll be in vain, as usual. "What the hell happened? We were watching a movie and then you said you'd be a second and then half an hour later I realize you're not back and then I find you sipping beer in your room all by yourself like we weren't having movie night!"

The male sighs and shakes his head again before lowering it and turning once more. "Just so clueless…" When you go to speak again, he spins a 180° and walks back into his room. "But what else can I expect from this generation?" That makes you scoff as you tail him like a vulture, hot on his heels.

"What the hell does that even mean–"

"Language!"

"Oh, my God!" You throw your hands up in frustration. "What has gotten into you lately?! You're becoming more and more like Steve by the passing day!" The mention of the male shifts something in his expression and he half turns his head to look at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "And that means annoying!" The addition seems to ease the tension in his huge shoulders.

Just a bit.

Something has been going on with him and he refuses to share it with you even though you are the closest with each other out of the entire team.

"You seriously don't know what was wrong? Are you really so clueless?" You rake your memories to recall what he is on about since the movie was quite innocent in that sense except…

Oh.

You roll your eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. "Well, I am sorry not all of us are conservatives from the '40s, gramps" now it is Bucky's turn to scoff.

"Oh, really?" When you hum and nod with just as much agitation his frustration gets the best of him. "You know what a conservative from the '40s would really do?"

"Yeah, no. Do enlighten me please!" You know he doesn't appreciate it when you get too sassy with him but what is he going to do about it?

You are a girl with a mind of your own and no one is going to tell you or give you any shit.

"He would ask the potential lady love out on a nice dinner instead of hanging out with her right in the beginning!" Your eyebrows furrow as he sarcastically emphasizes the words. "I mean, what even is that supposed to be?! It doesn't make any sense!" Bucky clicks his tongue in disdain as one of his hands move in the air to help express his frustration. "There is an order, a code, a way to do these things! Fancy is not supposed to be treated so casually! You kids have ruined the sanctity of the whole idea!"

"What even are you on about, Bucky?!" You go on cluelessly. "This is absurd! So what, friends can't watch movies together now?! I am sorry that things are less complicated now?!"

"They're not less complicated!" He is beyond annoyed and you can tell. "Not by a long shot! If anything, it's worse! Because now I have to deal with watching a provocative scene while the girl I like is cuddling into me but I can't do anything because we are just friends having a casual hangout and I can't do anything about my hard cock that wants nothing more than to show her that the scene that has her gripping my arm so tight is nothing in comparison to what I can do to her if she just stops being so fucking clueless!"

Bucky's teal blue eyes are wide and he is nearly breathless by the time he finishes his little speech. Your own state is not much different as you blink up at him in shock. It is only when he has recovered a little that he realizes what he has said… or rather, confessed.

"I-" the super soldier goes to shake his head but then stops before half tilting it to the side, visibly at a loss of words as his ears turn beet red. "Y/n–"

Your fingers are curling around the neckline of his shirt before you know it, the pull of your hand tugging you towards him instead of doing what you had intended, his heavy body unbudging.

Bucky's arms hang limply at his sides as he stands against you utterly dumbfounded, barely kissing you back if at all as he tries to decide whether this is another one of his dreams or you, the only girl that has managed to reach into his heart after so long that it honestly feels kind of like the first time, really is kissing him.

What he doesn't know is that you are having difficulty with determining the same thing.

You pull back when your lungs are on fire and you are heaving for air desperately, fingers still tightly holding onto his shirt in bunches with the fear that he might vanish into the air if you let go.

Bucky blinks as he sputters out some incoherent nonsense, eyes wide as he watches your face to try and grasp what just happened. "I–"

You shake your head with a roll of your eyes and a tut. He's insufferable with all that chivalry. You do find it endearing at times but it's moments like these when he's so clueless and formal about it that it gets annoying.

"Just shut up and kiss me, old man" you whisper as your eyes flicker down to his pink lips and you're on him again.

This time though, your words seem to have snapped him out of it and his hands shoot up to your sides as he holds you back just as tightly, fingers reaching down for your ass cheeks before he squeezes them hard. You are forced to break the kiss, your face still remaining against his lips as you audibly shudder at the feeling, shivers shooting down your hips and straight to your intimate parts from the delicious ache that it causes.

Within the next few minutes, you have managed to back Bucky into the bed as he's distracted with touching, feeling and groping as much of you as he possibly can. He lands on the bed with a heavy thud but before any words can be exchanged, you are straddling his thick and muscular thighs.

Your hands hurriedly snatch his shirt off before you push him down, raising your own arms above your head to let him do the same as you grind into his hard on that feels so thick that some tiny part of your brain cannot help but fear for your pussy.

"Mmm, solnyshko, you're so fucking pretty" Bucky rasps out the nickname he gave you when you both realized you had reached that stage in your friendship. But now, with his very recent confession fresh in your mind, you see the meaning of the word, 'little sun', that he had told you with an air of awkwardness in a very different light.

"Look at all this pretty fucking body, solnyshko. I could cum just by looking at it alone." Emotion overcomes your senses and you suddenly feel a bit sensitive. A whimper escapes you as a result and you can't help but clench against his bulge, hands reaching to squeeze his hands that are feeling up your boobs now that he has fished them out of the bra cups.

"B- Bucky…" He seems to have sensed it already, and so one of his hands trail down to your side to caress it encouragingly.

"Go ahead, baby" the endearment is just as foreign for you as it is for him. "You're doing so good, keep going for me" you feel a twitch below you and you can't help but parrot the curse that slithers from his lips.

Though you are on top, Bucky still seems to have the upper hand as he always does. But you have never really minded that with him because he isn't nasty about it and you know he only means well. You have learnt that through various outcomes many times. Besides, not that you'd ever admit it but you do need the extra care and guidance sometimes.

It is tough to play the all-knowing hero all the time.

Bucky is your sanctuary to deconstruct and just be yourself after a long day.

You hope you are the same for him as well.

With newfound confidence that you have his praise to thank for, you whine as your hips start to circle and twist against his stuff bulge, your clothed pussy already pleased because of how needy and desperate it really is.

Your back arches as you moan out loud when his fingers go to circle around one of your nipples, twisting it between them before his fingernails dig in them while his vibranium hand finds your mouth. "Bucky!" Your face is flushed and cheeks hot as you feel his thumb graze the shape of your lips before pushing inside them. "Mmmm~" your brows furrow when you feel yourself leak some more before clenching around the air again.

Okay.

Grinding isn't gonna cut it.

You need him inside you.

You have waited for way too long to rub it out.

He just has to be all over you… and that includes all the openings to your insides.

Your lips tightly wrap around his thumb as you suck so hard that the sound of it resonates in the air, pulling a sharp string of whispered curses from Bucky. Letting go of his arms you now claws at his belt until it gives way to your ferocity and you nearly tug the fly off the fabric.

You whine louder than you would ever like to admit when he goes to tug your shorts off and you have to shift away from where you are grinding against him, the rude protective growl you end up letting out causing him to chuckle as he pulls the shorts off your legs with a soft spank to your ass; a signal for you to improve your crazed behavior.

Bucky has a way of keeping you in your place.

"Tsk, solnyshko, patience!" His playful words fall on deaf ears as you literally jump back up on his cock, planting two stubborn hands against his shoulders before pushing him down flat against the mattress from his half risen position.

Your single-mindedness once you zero in on something is a joke amongst the team. And though you deny it with every fiber of your existence, your actions and manic possessiveness over his cock right now is not helping your case.

"Mine" you whisper as you move back to now rub against him skin to skin, your fingertips tracing over the bumps of his body as your usually bright eyes watch him with a dark hue over them. A hiss leaves Bucky when your warm and soaking pussy drags against his member, causing for his hands to bolt to your ass as he squeezes with all his might to withstand the sensory overload. It is to avoid flipping you over to fuck you into oblivion.

Because that can come later. Right now is your first time with him and he prefers for you to take things at your pace; ease into whatever this will become.

"Just like that, solnyshko, good girl" the words cause you to whimper as you raise yourself by propping your body up against your heels, wrapping one hand around his intimidating girth before you slowly pump and spread both your precums along its destructive length.

Your bottom lip juts out a little at his scary size and you can't help but look up at him with a whimper. It is so easy because he is your safe place and understands every single one of your quirks with no words exchanged.

Everything makes sense with Bucky.

"It's okay, baby. You can take it, I know you can" he reassures you as he caresses your thighs comfortingly. "Go ahead, I'll take care of you if I have to" you nod gratefully, your usually smart mouth mum. Though when you look down at his rather monstrous cock again, you have to gulp to yourself as you arch your back before moving the thick tip against your entrance, the sensation causing you to hiss almost instantly.

"Hnnng, Bucky!" You feel yourself stretch and widen around his smooth skin, but then you slide down further and the shape of his thick bulging veins grazes against your trembling walls and your thighs quiver, causing your knees to shake. "Oh!" The most vile moan you have ever let out rings in the air as you reach for his shoulders sensitively, wincing and lowering your head against his to let him kiss you everywhere he can reach while your hips lower against his.

"Fuck, solnyshko, you're so fucking tight for me" his hands fondle your ass and breasts rather bluntly as he peppers kisses all over your face, moving his own hips in sync to yours to help you out because you are clearly struggling with accommodating and handling him. "Good girl" his lips capture yours in a clingy kiss, your mouths nearly sticking to each other's. You break away for enough time for Bucky to let out, "such a good fucking girl for me, baby" before you sink down on his cock again and bite his bottom lip as a result, loudly whining into his mouth.

The super soldier curses as he twitches inside you, his tip easily reaching the sensitive bundle of nerves that ks hot and eager to be touched. "Fuck, you're so biiiig!" You mewl as your eyes roll to the back of your head, fingers clasping around his shoulders as you find a rhythm and start bouncing, the aid of his hips causing a loud smacking sound to fill the otherwise quiet air.

You feel your loins tense each time his stiff veins graze your weeping pussy that desperately tries to return to its original state whenever he lifts you almost all the way up and off his cock only to have you sheath it back again from the tip.

You are trying your best to keep the control to yourself but the truth is, were it not for Bucky's guiding hold on your hips, you would have collapsed from the sensitivity of your core and the size of his impaler long ago.

"Look at you, solnyshko" the male cooes while panting but doesn't break off the sync of your bodies, one hand now dipping between your legs to let his vibranium thumb rub your clit. The action causes your limbs to spasm as you moan loudly, your back arching while your pussy clenches again. "Lookin' so pretty bouncing on my cock. Almost as if that's all you were made to do" his words make you grunt as you dig your nails into his skin.

Fuck, he is too good.

Not so chivalrous after all, was he?

"Oh, Bucky!" You have never moaned like this before. "I am gonna–" in control yet so powerless. "I- I am gonna cum!" No one has ever made you feel so good, so dirty, so used and yet so taken care of all at once. "Oh, please!" You have no idea why you are even asking his permission to do so. Before him you had always been the boss of your life.

But with Bucky, it just feels right.

Like that is the order of things.

That is just the kind of man that he is.

"Go ahead, my sweet solnyshko" his other hand slaps your ass and stars appear in your vision. Fuck. You had not expected him to be this dominant. "Fuck yourself dumb on my dick like the cock starved slut that you are" his referral to your crazed greed from some minutes ago makes you blush furiously but before you can protest, his thumb swipes faster and faster against your nub and renders you speechless.

Your toe curling orgasm os one that leaves you momentarily numb and deaf, the only thing your mind being able to register the overstimulation of your walls as Bucky chases his own orgasm now, basically using you as a cock sleeve as you motionlessly slam up and down his length, the upper half of your body hunched forwards as your cheek rests against his. Your mouth can only let out incoherent murmurs in his ear as you snake your arms around his neck and nibble on the skin of his shoulders until his hot seed explodes through you, filling your cavern up until it overflows and the white liquid trickles down your legs.

You are eventually moved down and off his cock to which you whine, your hole blinking around air at the loss of contact. That causes Bucky to chuckle as he wraps you up against him in his thick arms and moves your bodies further up the bed until you are resting against the pillows.

"Don't go~" you softly murmur with a pout when he turns to reach for his bedside drawers.

The arm that he has around you further tighten in reassurance as he fishes something out. "Aw, baby, don't worry. I am not going anywhere" your pout deepens when he turns towards you and the object comes into view. "Just–"

"Noooo~" you whine as you tighten your arms around his chest and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. "L- Leave it on~" one of his eyebrows raise before a little smirk appears on his face.

"Oh, solnyshko, you sweet girl" Bucky puts the tissue box away as he moves your hair out of your face before pressing a warm kiss to your forehead. "Aren't you precious, hm?" As he untucks your flushed face from his neck to look at and caress one of your cheeks lovingly, you blush harder and busy yourself with examining his dog tags to avoid his eyes. "Who would have thought that the baddest avenger would be such a cutie deep down?" You roll your eyes when he playfully quotes what you like to refer to yourself as. "Not wanting to be cleaned so she can remain covered in my cum–"

"Alright, alright. You can stop now" your voice is hoarse due to your vocal exercise from a couple minutes ago.

"Stop?" Your eyes flutter when his nails comfortingly scratch your scalp before one of his fingers snake through the strands of your disheveled hair. "But I haven't even started with you yet, baby" a snort leaves him when he feels you clench with a whimper at his words.

Your limbs are tangled as you lay relaxing in each other's scents, one of Bucky's thick thighs buried between your legs.

"Not even started with me yet?!" Your shock makes him snicker. "After all that?!'

It is safe to say that he has fucked the living daylights out of you.

… And he was not even on top when he did so.

Bucky shrugs. "Only one way to find out…" His eyes search for yours with hope.

You finally look up at him with a small smile, your heart thumping as your fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags. "I would love to, Bucky." Before you could shy away, your now boyfriend has captured your lips in his.

"Oh, and honey?"

"Yes… b- babe?"

"We really have to do something about those sassy little eye rolls of yours."

I know I made him dominant but it's literally Bucky, how could I not?!

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verstappen-cult · 2 months

Note

Could you Write a lestappen Where they help reader do her skincare but they also want to do it.Thanks 💗

“What are you doing, baby?” Max leans against the door, seeing you apply on a face mask.

“Oh, I’m just doing my skincare,” You smile at him trough the mirror. “Once I’m done with this we can watch that movie Charles was insisting on watching all week.”

“Hey!” You hear your boyfriend complain, and then he’s right next to Max, a frown on his face. “Jacob Elordi and Rosamund Pike are in the movie, it’s gonna be good.”

“You only want to watch it because you know Barry Keoghan is naked in the final scene.”

Charles shrugs, “I’m just a man.”

Max snorts, walking closer to you. He grabs the face mask and reads the label, then places it back on the sink. A beat. And he’s grabbing it again.

It’s cute.

“You wanna try it?” You ask him softly, turning your body to face him. “It’s going to cleanse, tone and moisturize your face.”

“Can I–don’t know… help you first?”

You nod, “You need to wash your hands first.”

“What about me?” Charles gives you his best puppy eyes, a pout adorning his lips.

“Come here,” Charles doesn’t waste any time and is by your side in a a second, washing his hands just like Max. “Okay, you take a little bit of this,” You show them how to do it and they watch you carefully. “and then you just—” You apply the face mask on their faces, surprising them.

“Shit, that’s freezing.” Max flinches but lets you keep going.

“That’s the point.”

“Okay, I got it!” Charles follows your instructions and does it on the right side of your face, while Max in the left one. It’s relaxing.

If you end up watching Saltburn with face masks and pink headbands on your head, well, nobody needs to know that.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen x reader #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #max verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #poly!f1

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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

Text

Grill the Grid

Guys, I'm sorry this is so short. I've had a bout of writers block but still wanted to get another chapter out. I will be going back to working on the regular chapters soon! But enjoy this take on Grill the Grid!

Like always - comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love :D

Key for this chapter: regular text - just normal speaking bold - words on the flip boards italics - scene change bold italics - the narrator lady

Episode One: Radio Show

A quick snapshot of each driver shows up before the opening title of “Grill the Grid” crosses the screen.

You quickly showed up and clapped your hands.

“Welcome ladies and gents to another season of Drive to Survive.” You showed a cheeky smile as you winked to the camera.

“Can you please state your name and what team you drive for?”

You sighed as you thought. “Christian is going to kill me if I can't remember all of it.” You looked back at the camera. “My name is Y/n L/n and I drive for the Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula One Team.”

“That is correct.”

Your eyes widened as you started to laugh. “I didn’t think I’d get that.”

The lady behind the camera smiled. “Max didn’t get the entire thing.”

You stared at the camera like you were on the office before turning to someone off camera to the side. “Do I get a point for that?”

The video now cut to Max.

Max had his hands on his side, head down before he looked back up.

He had a nervous smile as he tried to think. “Yeah, I don’t know. Red Bull Racing?” He shrugged as multiple people around him laughed.

“It’s actual Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing.”

Max rolled his eyes. “How is anyone supposed to remember that?”

“Y/n did.”

“Of course.”

Words flashed on the screen signaling to viewers the actual start of the episode. Multiple familiar faces showed as they all stood next to a board with multiple flaps of paper.

Lando smugly looked at the title and then to the camera. “I got this in the bag.”

“How do you think you’ll do?”

Oscar was now on screen. “Uhhhhh.” He didn’t have time to answer.

“I think I’ll do ok. I’m not too familiar with other team’s radios, but I can try?” A red-clad Monegasque questioned himself.

The drivers all flipped the first page.

--He better get me more stroopwaffles after that. Asshole--

You flipped the first page and barely glanced at it before answering. “Lando.”

“Lando.” Max also flipped.

Oscar, Daniel, Charles, and Carlos at once, “Lando.”

Lando just stared into the camera. “Me?”

You smiled back at the camera. “This was at Zandvoort right? After Max kinda bumped him.”

“He pushed me off the track! Bumped is an understatement.” Lando now flipped the next page and leaned back to laugh. “Y/n.”

--Speed. I am Speed. One winner, 19 losers. I eat losers for breakfast--

Max, once again, barely glanced before answering, “Y/n.”

Lance looked around trying to get a hint. He couldn’t find one. “Logan? I know he’s watched the Cars movies.”

Logan laughed as well before shaking his head. “Y/n.”

“Me.” Your face flushed red. “Truthfully, I didn’t know the radio was on.”

Oscar made a noise as he thought. “I want to say Logan because he recently watched that. But my heart wants to say Y/n.”

“Is that your final answer.”

“Yes.”

“That’s correct.”

Fernando, Carlos, Daniel, and Alex flipped the page. “Y/n.”

--This is what she gets for telling me to use my mirrors. AHA! Does she even have her driver’s license?--

“Aha! This is Daniel.” You stood looking at the next page. “So in quali, he almost hit me in turn four during my flying lap and I told him to use his mirrors in the race. Well, he overtook me in the first lap and I fell behind.” Your smile disappeared as you looked right into the camera. “And yes, I have my driver’s license.”

Daniel almost fell to his knees as he read the next one. His gummy smile almost took over his face. “This is me to Y/n.”

Max just looked lost. “Who said this?”

“Daniel.”

“Oh.”

Episode Two: Champions Part 2

“So do you know what’s next?”

You looked confused as you looked around the empty space. “Well there’s no board here?”

Charles shrugged. “It could be anything. I certainly hope that this season we won’t have to list the champions in some order again.”

Max looked around with a confused look. “Again?”

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Man I knew I should have gone back and actually memorized them.”

“There’s no way someone is getting all of them. Sebastian is gone.” Lando shrugged.

It was now back to Charles who looked a bit more pale. A loud beep sounded on a views screen as he looked down.

You once again clapped. “I knew all those Wikipedia pages would come in handy. Are we starting from newest to oldest or oldest to newest.”

“Any way you want.”

You looked up in thought as you started to list. “Ok. Max was in 2023, 2022, 2021. Then Lewis in 2020, 2019, 1028, 2017. Nico won in 2016 then it was back to Lewis in ’15 and ’14. Seb won from 2013 to 2010…”

Max sighed before he started. “Uh, me in 2023 to 2021. Then Lewis until 2014.”

“Incorrect. Nico won in 2016.”

Max hummed. “Uh, Nico in ’16. Then Lewis to ’14. I know Seb won in 2013.”

It was back to you. “And then Michael Schumacher again in 2010, which was his first with Ferrari. Then it was Hakkinen in ’99 and ’98. Uh, Villeneuve in 1997 who was preceded by Hill in 1996. Then it was back to Schumi in ’95 and ’94.”

Lando looked lost.

Charles was still pale but he tried. “It was Max, Lewis, Nico, Lewis again. Then Seb then Lewis again?”

“You’re forgetting another Mercedes Driver.”

Charles looked even more confused. “Uh.”

“Jensen Button in 2009.”

“He was in Mercedes?” Charles just ended up walking off.

Back to you. “Mario Andretti was the last American in 1978. Niki and Hunt danced around from 1977 to 1976. Then it was Fittipaldi, Stewart, Fittpaldi, Stewart, Rindt, Stewart respectfully in 1975, 1974, 1973, 1972, 1971, and 1970.”

Oscar looked as if he was having a stroke.

Logan ran a hand down his face. “I only know Andretti in 1978 and then Phil Hill in 1961. You know. Go America!”

Fernando tried but couldn’t get past the nineties. Yet he had a smile on his face. “Y/n got all of these right, correct?”

“She was the only one.”

“Shut up, no she wasn’t.” Lando didn’t believe it.

“Of course she did.” Max could only chuckle. “She would brag and brag about this in the plane.”

“And then Ascari in 1952, then Fangio in 1951, and finally Farina in 1950!” You had a proud look on your face. “I knew I could do it. Did I miss any?”

“Nope.”

Episode Three: Guess These Headlights

Charles, who had now recovered from his bout of PTSD, suddenly looked excited. “Now here is something I can do.”

“Are you a car guy?”

“Definitely.” Carlos responded with a smug look. “I grew up around cars.”

“I mean. I know my McLarens?” Oscar questioned. “This is going to be hard.”

Lando looked ready. “Let’s get this going.”

You looked determined. “Bring it on.” You flipped the first page. “Ah. That’s a classic. A Ferrari F40.” You turned back to the camera. “If I didn’t have my Porsches, I would have bought an F40.” A far away thoughtful look crossed your face. “Maybe I’ll still get one. I’ll ask Charles. He can get me one.”

Charles quickly answered “F40” and then flipped. “Ah. This is McLaren P1.”

“McLaren P1,” Oscar answered. “The logo is in the headlights. Pretty helpful.”

Daniel flipped the next one and stood back, hands on his hips. “I know Max has this car. But I can’t remember the name.”

Lance finally looked as though he knew what it was. “This is the Aston Valkyrie.”

Fernando also guessed it correctly. “Aston Valkyrie.”

Next, Carlos easily got the next one. “La Ferrari. I wanted one.”

“Did you get one.”

Carlos nodded his head before answering. “No.”

Max flipped through the pages very quickly. “Ah! I know this one. Y/n has two of these. It’s the Porsche 9-11’s.”

“Y/n’s Porsche. The 9-11 model,” Alex responded.

“I see these in my garage since Y/n’s apartment didn’t come with one, so she puts her’s in mine. It’s the Porsche 9-11,” Logan had a happy smile as he knew one. The next one, he didn’t know.

“Not a clue.” Charles, Oscar, and Daniel all said as they flipped.

Max took a minute to look at the X looking headlights. He hummed. “Y/n was just showing me a TikTok with this car. Says she wants one someday.”

You had a giant grin on your face as you looked at the headlights.

“Do you know what this car is?”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I know. It’s the 3 million dollar Ferrari V12 Engine Apollo Project Evo. There are currently 10 of them only in the world, and they are all owned.”

“Do you have one of them?”

You only smirked as you looked into the camera.

Max still stood next to his board, eyes to the sky as he really thought. His eyebrows raised as he remembered the answer. “This is like...the Apollo E car?”

“That is correct. Now, does Y/n own one of these? She didn’t give us an answer.”

Max looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh. No comment?”

Episode Four: Random Skills

“Ok. For this challenge you have to guess what driver has this skill.”

“Easy.” Came from Lando.

You looked around confused. “I don’t think I have any skills.”

“Do I even have a skill for them to use?” Lewis questioned himself.

“First skill. Which driver is known for playing the piano.”

“Sharl,” you smirked. “Easy.”

“Charles.” Lance, Fernando, and Daniel all answered.

“Me.” The Monegasque had a smile on his face.

Oscar looked up. “Is it Y/n? She looks like she can play the piano.”

“He said that? I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.” You shrugged.

“Which drivers claims to be able to hit a hole in one at the Monte Carlo Golf Course.”

Max rolled his eyes. “I know Lando has claimed, but I’m going to say Carlos.”

Carlos looked lost. “Me? I don’t know if I’ve said that though. Maybe Lando?”

Logan answered, “Lando?”

Lando also looked lost. “Me?”

“No.”

“Who is it then?” You questioned. Lando and Carlos had been your guess.

“It is Pierre Gasly.”

Lando huffed. “Get out of here.”

The man in question had a guilty smile. “I forgot I said that. Let’s say it’s still true.”

You looked eager to get on with the game. You wanted to win that trophy.

“Which driver has set a drive time around the Daytona International Speedway at 1 minute and 40 seconds. Which is only 8 seconds slower than the lap record.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I would get on here for this category. It’s me right?”

“Correct, Logan.”

You took a little while to guess. “I’m gonna say Logan. Sounds like a very American thing to do at Daytona. And his brother drove for NASCAR right?”

“Correct.”

Your fist pumped the air.

Oscar looked elated at this question. “It’s Logan. I was there when he did it.” A big smile crossed his face.

Lance looked around in thought. “Uhhhhh. Lando? I don’t know.”

Lando also looked happy, as he seemed to know the answer. “It’s Logan right? Yeah, Logan. Final answer.”

“Are there any geography questions this season, or…” Max drew out the last syllable as he laughed with the others. He suddenly went cold stare. “I’m being serious.”

“Which driver knows how to moon walk?”

Fernando squinted his eyes as he thought before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s one of the young ones right? Yuki?”

Yuki was also as lost as Fernando. “I wish it was me. Maybe Lando? He DJ’s right?”

“It’s not Lando. But it is a younger driver.”

“I should know this after she made me play Just Dance for three hours one time. It’s Y/n.” Logan looked put off at his mention of the dance off.

Oscar also looked bored as he also brought it up. “Yeah, it’s Y/n. I threw Just Dance out after she left. No more.”

Max rubbed his face. “She plays it with P whenever she comes over. They play the same one over and over again. Y/n.”

Charles had a far off look, like one of an older man who suddenly was hit with PTSD from war. He whispered, “We don’t mention moonwalk. Not after her and Arthur…” He never finished as he walked off again.

You had a shit-eating grin on your face. “Me! And I tried to teach it to Oscar, Lando, Logan, Max, Charles, Arthur…” You just seemed to keep going and going. They finally had to stop you before you kept going on about the Just Dance discography.

Bloopers

You stood in front of the camera with one of the que things that snap. “And action! Do you even say that anymore? And I thought this was an actual set. I might have cried when I saw the green screen.”

Beep

The camera showed Max creeping in as you continued listing all of the champions in order. He looked over at the camera like was on the office. “Is she still going?”

Beep

Logan kept touching his hair and the makeup lady would slap his hands away to fix it. “NASCAR drivers don’t have to go through this. I bet they don’t have to list all the freaking Formula 1 champions in order.” He leaned in and made a gesture. “See. All they have to do is kiss a brick and they get one when they win.”

Beep

Oscar smiled as he looked around, honestly excited to get this over with. “I think I’m finally ready for redemption. This should be easy.”

The camera cut to him after ever he finished filming. “I take it back. That was not easy. You guys really need to find better questions.”

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rikigai · 4 days

Text

cologne — nishimura riki

pairing: boyfriend!riki x afab!reader

genre(s): suggestive, sorta fluff

content/warning: reader is a uni student, kisses everywhere, hickeys, skinship, hands under clothes

word count: 739

[requested]

author’s note: i worked on this pretty fast. i think it took me likee 20 mins which is alr fast for me. lmk if i missed any warnings and if you guys wanna read more works like this. (not proofread)

[🎧 now playing: cologne by beabadobee]

you were sitting on the long couch that was set right by the tv with riki, tucked into a single throw blanket that covered the both of you. it was an insanely busy week for you in the middle of november. the fall semester’s end had been coming closer and finals week was approaching, and you needed to get your work done. sitting atop your lap was your macbook with around a million tabs opened for the dozens of assignments you had to submit.

the click sounds your keyboard made were heard alongside the movie that was playing on the tv. with riki’s head rested on your shoulder while his eyes were fixed onto the scenes in the movie you two were watching, he couldn’t help but notice on how you were no longer watching the movie, but completing the lengthy tasks you had to do.

riki turned his head towards your laptop screen as his eyes skimmed through the data you’ve written down. “y/n, what’s that? i thought we were supposed to be watching?” he asked you. with your eyes and mind concentrated on the paper you were trying to get done, you respond to riki after a few seconds (you sucked at multitasking and didn’t even notice he was asking you something sooo) “i’mmm…. just trying to get this done. this will be really quick, i promise.” you said. riki watched you as you did your work, but it definitely wasn’t quick.

he got bored and shifted himself closer to your body, still waiting for you to finish. he wrapped his arms around your torso as he slid his hands under the white long-sleeved top you had on. with riki snuggled onto you, he couldn’t help but bring his face closer to your neck, and as he did, he smelt a familiar scent right behind your ear. the sweet notes of cherry blossom, mimosa, and mandarin lingered through the air he was breathing in. riki then placed a kiss on your neck, he just couldn’t get enough. “ki~ hold onnn. please let me finish this paper baby~” you said, playfully pushing his chest back. he found his way back onto your neck, planting kisses all over it. his pink, plump lips trailed down onto your collarbone, sucking on your soft skin, leaving traces and spots of red, purple, and somehow yellow marks everywhere.

“babyy, i need to-“ you tried to say before a subtle moan escaped your lips, with riki sucking the same spot repeatedly. you continue with your words “i need to get extra marks on this assignment. let me do my work first ki, then we can- wait shit-“ you then tossed your head back and let out a moan once more. “the only marks you’re getting are the ones on your neck, y/n” riki says. he gives you a peck on the lips before he continued to kiss your neck. he placed his hand on your nape, using the other one to shut your laptop down, pushing it aside.

this wasn’t a first, it definitely wasn’t. every time you did your school work, errands, household chores, or at least tried to, he’d always find his way into bringing your focus onto him.

you stood up from the couch and discarded the throw blanket that covered the two of you in an attempt to get riki off of you. “kiii~” you said in a whiny tone, still trying to push him off. you tried walking, but he just couldn’t let go of your touch, your voice, your smell, of you. he followed you from behind to the kitchen, where you tried heading in escape of him. his hands were around your torso with his chest pressed against your back. he brought his head onto your shoulder, taking in your scent.

you walked towards one of the cabinets, going on your tip-toes to grab a cup, but as you were opening the cabinet door, riki shuts it back. he then swiftly turns you around, where your eyes locked with his. you jumped up on the counter. now face to face with riki, you kissed his lips which were previously all over you, caressing his cheek and pushing aside the strands of hair that sat on his face. he pulled you in closer as the kiss grew messy. your hands were now holding his shoulders from behind, locking you two into the position you were in while you wrapped your legs around his slender torso.

“still want to do that paper, baby?”

“i’d do you instead.”

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rileyslibrary · 1 year

Text

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, rubbing his temples, “You set fire to your tent while trying to make what?”

Heat rises to your face as you avoid meeting his eyes. You fidget with your fingers, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of your superior. Your breathing is so loud and ragged in the silence of his tent, and you try to steady yourself before speaking.

You murmur an inaudible answer while shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Louder, soldier,” he commands, “and look at me when I address you.”

You take a deep breath and hold it in. You lift your head and meet his eyes. His balaclava is crooked and messy as if he put it on in a hurry when the entire camp went into chaos. You can see a few stray hairs poking out from underneath it. His eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is hoarse; the poor guy has had enough.

“Popcorn, sir.” You whisper and instinctively kick a rock on the ground, wishing it was you.

“Popcorn.” He repeats, amazed.

You nod and divert your gaze to your left, where his bed is. You blush and immediately swing your head in the other direction.

“What were you thinking?” He asks, leaning on his field desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I guess I, um, I guess I was hungry, sir.” You stammer. You shift your weight to the balls of your feet, then place them back on the ground.

“You guess you were hungry?” He asks dumbfounded, “And you decided that popcorn was the right snacking choice?”

You shrug, and he shakes his head.

“Tell me, soldier,” he says, “do you know what popcorn does?”

“What does it do?” You ask naively.

“Come on, work with me,” he says, gesticulating with his hands, “it’s a compound word; corn that...”

“… pops?”

“Repeatedly”, he nods, “and do you know what repeated ‘pops’ might be interpreted with? In a field exercise? With a bunch of soldiers on high alert?”

“Gunshots?”

“Repeated gunshots,” he corrects you.

You shut your eyes and hunch over. “I’m really sorry, sir,” you finally mutter, “it was an accident.”

“Oh!” He exclaims and throws his hands up, “Thank you for clearing that out, soldier; see, I was worried you were intentionally committing arson!”

“No, sir, I promise you that wasn’t my intention,” you cry, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upsetting me is not the problem here, Y/N, and if you can’t see that, we have a bigger issue to deal with.”

You furrow your eyebrows and look at him, confused. He takes a while to assess your expression and widens his eyes, ready to lecture you for good now.

“You could have gotten hurt, you idiot!” He shouts, hitting his palm with the outer edge of his hand. “You could have burned yourself, or someone could have shot straight in your direction with all these...” he gestures with his hands, imitating fireworks, “...pops that you were making!”

You raise your eyebrows as you connect the dots. “You’re right, sir,” you nod, “I will try to be wiser and not make any stupid mistakes in the future.”

“Mistakes happen daily, and you are wise, soldier.” He reassures you, “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be on my team.” He walks behind his desk to sit on the folding chair. “It’s your inability to assess the danger that scares me.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says gently, “and I worry that there might not always be someone there to help you.”

“I can assure you that the team is always-”

“I know the team is great and always has your back, but I mean me; I won’t always be there to save you from harm,” he says and shoos you away. “You’re dismissed,” he orders, and starts filling paperwork.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” You ask.

He shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead. “I just extinguished one hell of a fire,” he replies. “Unless what I just experienced was a scene from a movie, I highly doubt I’d be able to sleep in peace.”

“I’m really sorry.” You apologise, and he waves his hand again for you to leave.

“Soldier?” He asks, and you turn to look at him one last time.

“I hope you didn’t bring any movies to accompany you with that popcorn.” He states in a stern voice.

You vigorously shake your head. “No, sir,” you reply, “no movies, just popcorn.”

He lets out a relieved exhale. “Just remember; next time you get hungry, it’s better to stick to the rations.”

You shrug and look at the ground. “I’ve run out of my allocated rations, sir.”

He lets out another exhale, this time deeper, and tilts his head to the side.

“Is that the reason you decided to cook for yourself?” He asks, “Because you ate all your meals?”

You slowly nod. His eyes have softened, and he looks more compassionate than before. Almost forgiving; human.

He opens the drawer of his field desk and grabs an energy bar and a pack of dried figs. He pushes them towards you.

“Please, come see me next time,” he advises you. “I much rather wake up to you asking for food than to a blitzkrieg of kernels popping.”

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snowfll · 5 months

Note

Hi! Can you write one about Tom Blyth and actress!reader where after filming a movie they grew closer and closer until finally one day Tom or reader or both confess their feelings for one another? Or maybe it can be them both being oblivious and everyone basically knows they’re in love until one of their costars helps them finally confess to one another? Thank you!

Baby, You're Perfect; Tom Blyth

pairing - Tom Blyth x actress!reader summary - its easy to fall for Tom on screen and even easier to fall for him in real life words - 1.31k warning - js fluff! Tom's a cutie note - I tried my best! I hope you like it :3 idk why but the pictures aren't working. trying to fix it asap

"You two are awfully close."

Although neither of you answered the question, the interviewer could sense the unspoken truth lingering in the air, revealed by the way both of you were flustered.

Working alongside Tom on a romance film created a bond that extended beyond the scripted lines. Having played his love interest on screen, the chemistry between the two of you was through the roof.

From the moment you sat down in your designated seat at the table, he caught your eye. You were curious to see how the chemistry read would play out. It turns out you two got along extremely well.

“Well, yes, seeing him every day has that effect; he’s such a sweetheart,” you confessed during the interview, a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh, don’t listen to her; she’s over-exaggerating," Tom interjected with a playful grin, emphasizing the chemistry within your off-screen dynamic.

He is a known gentleman, bringing you flowers every week on set—a thoughtful act born from the understanding of your love for them. The cast playfully teased him for it, drawing parallels from his on-screen character, who loved giving gifts to his girl. You adored his actions; no one had ever brought you flowers before.

As filming wrapped up, a sense of melancholy settled in, originating from the reluctance to part ways—you enjoyed your time on set. The days were a blend of shooting scenes or relaxing with Tom wherever you were, no matter what you were with him at all times.

Now that you were on the press tour for your film, you and Tom were closer than ever. The days were a whirlwind, going from interview to interview and then straight to the hotel to catch up on rest. The limited days off were cherished, offering you both a break from the spotlight.

Walking through different cities with Tom by your side became a treasured routine, despite the presence of paparazzi trailing your every move. Cameras flashed every time you went out with your hands intertwined, capturing moments that fueled rumors and speculations.

“Tom! Are you and Ms. Jones matching shoes on purpose?” A paparazzo called out, drawing attention to the coordinated footwear chosen during your shopping spree.

“Ms. Jones, do you have anything to comment on the dating rumors between you and Mr. Blyth?” another inquired. That is what most of them ask nowadays. Could they sense the feelings you had for your co-star? Ignoring the persistent questions, Tom guided you away from the crowd of cameras, seeking refuge in the waiting car.

“That was a lot,” he remarked after a few minutes of silence, his tone carrying exhaustion.

“It was. I can’t wait to get back to my hotel room.” He sensed something was off as you muttered your response. You were always able to hold a conversation with him; there was never a dull moment between you two. Though he knew you were tired from the day’s activities, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had done anything wrong.

As the car pulled up to the hotel, you hastily exited and rushed up to your room, leaving him behind. Guilt gnawed at you, but facing him after the intrusion of the paparazzi was a challenge you weren’t ready to tackle.

A few hours later, a soft knock at your door interrupted the solitude. You welcomed him in before crawling under the covers once again; there was no reason to ignore him.

“What’s going on, sweetie?” He looked at you with concern filling his eyes as he sat down next to you on the bed. “I know it's not because you’re tired; you’ve been napping for a while. Please talk to me." His genuine concern cut through the unspoken tension.

Once you didn’t answer, he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of bed. The two of you made your way to the door, where he handed you your shoes.

“Where are we going?” You questioned while standing back up, to which he replied by telling you your destination is someplace you would enjoy.

He dragged you all the way to the car and closed your door as you got in the passenger seat, like a true gentleman. The two of you drove around with the windows down, screaming along to your shared playlist.

“Are you feeling better, now?” He turned down the music, waiting to hear your answer. “I am, thank you. Would you like me to explain?" Communication was very important to you, and unable to deceive him, you felt compelled to reveal the truth.

“In all honesty, the paparazzi got too overwhelming. Especially with all the dating questions.” You admitted, your gaze fixed on a point in the car, avoiding direct eye contact.

Tom’s expression softened, a mixture of understanding and empathy in his eyes. He parked the car in an empty parking lot before reaching out for your hand and placing it in his lap. “Hey, you don’t have to face this alone. And, for the record, I hate how they invade our personal lives as well.”

A smile appeared on your lips, appreciating his supportive words. “It’s just... the questions about us and whether we are dating. I didn’t know how to handle it,” you confessed, vulnerability filling the open air.

He nodded, his thumb gently rubbing against your hand. “I understand; it's okay to feel overwhelmed. But you don’t have to worry about handling it alone. We can get through this together.”

The sincerity in his words reassured you and provided comfort in his presence. “Thank you, Tom. This means a lot more than you realize,” you replied, your voice genuine.

"Anytime, sweetie, we’re a team, on and off-screen.” He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You couldn’t help but notice a shift in the air—a subtle change in the dynamic between you two. The unspoken feelings that lingered beneath the surface were now begging to be let out.

Silence soon enveloped the car; the only thing playing was the music set to a low volume. The weight of the implicit emotions hung in the air, yet there was a shared understanding that needed no words.

You debated breaking the silence, but fortunately, Tom spoke up before you could. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it more and more recently... Maybe it’s time we addressed the dating rumors.”

Your eyebrows were raised in surprise. “Agreed, but how do we go about it?"

“Let’s be honest with them,” he paused, thinking of how he should continue. “We were going to have to talk about it one day, so why not tell them the truth now?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and the idea of him actually liking you echoed in your mind. “The truth?”

He nodded, honesty in his eyes. “What if we tell them that the chemistry they see on screen is more than just acting?"

You caught your breath, the unspoken truth finally swimming to the surface. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like you, not just as a co-star; everything we do together is what I've always dreamed about. Baby, you’re perfect.”

A rush of emotion swept over you, and a genuine smile graced your face. “Tom, I like you too, more than I ever thought I would.”

His smile mirrored yours as he stared into your eyes. “Then let’s tell them the truth. We like each other, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

As you shared a lingering look, he slowly leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Your surroundings seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that moment of equal vulnerability.

Breaking the kiss, Tom grinned, his eyes filled with love and affection. “Ready to face the world?” he paused, waiting for some kind of response, continuing once he saw you nod.

"So, let’s start right now.”

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the hunger games #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #oneshot #fluff #tom blyth x you #confession #late night drives

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motherofagony · 5 months

Text

FIRE WALK - one shot

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: au, no outbreak!joel x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni word count: 6.5k summary: a chance encounter at a motel has you crossing paths with a stranger in a blue t-shirt. content warnings + tags: age gap (we'll say 15-20 years), very brief references to past non-con encounters (not with joel, no details just shitty men in general), soft!joel, alcohol, mentions of family trauma and ab*se, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f + m receiving), A Scene With a Belt™, slight mentions of reader's clothing but no physical descriptions otherwise, love as consumption and women as fruit a/n: this was a brain-worm of a one shot, so i had to press pause on AHFE and get it out. consider it a dirty love letter to strangers with stories in shitty motels. and i have to give the biggest thank-you to @iamskyereads for stepping in and offering to be my beta reader in the final hour. she was so unbelievably thorough and thoughtful and kind. i owe you big.

New-age boogeymen hang two-way mirrors and jiggle motel door handles with broken hangers.

That’s what the news says.

August licks an unforgiving line of heat up your back, and cutoff denim and halter tops do nothing but give the sun more skin to burn.

It’s sweltering, brutal as an Arizona summer is, and The Palms Motel promises a pool and a mini bar on their dirty marquee. You’ll take what you can get, can’t really afford to be picky with fifty dollars in your pocket, but at least maybe you’ll live like royalty tonight.

Some guy you met — Tom, Tim, Jim, whoever — pulls his convertible up to the front office. Your knees knock together over the speed bump, cartilage kissing bone.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come close to a chauffeur, but the chauffeur you see in movies doesn’t usually take liberties with trying to work his grease-speckled mechanic hand up the passenger’s shirt.

You met him at a gas station in Tucson, thumbing your way from northern Texas to put as much distance between you and your whiskey-breathed dad as you could. He’d torn your clothes apart at the seams with his eyes when he spotted you in the parking lot, swimming in blood-infested waters with sharp, sharp teeth.

There was no plan, no directions penned and cities circled on a folded map, just glass in your hair and a final straw.

He asked if you could buy him some booze — revoked license, baby, y’know how that goes — and you shouldn’t have, but when he flashed a leather wallet thick with cash, you knew you’d be stupid not to.

You hid behind a shelf inside the gas station while he idled in the parking lot and plucked a fifty from the wad, stuffing it deep in your bag. You grabbed some shitty malt-something from a fridge along with a 6-pack, flashing the slack-jawed cashier a wink.

He didn’t try to hide the eye contact with your tits, but neither do most men. Sometimes you milk it in your favor, sometimes it just makes your lunch rise to the back of your throat.

And when you’re by yourself, it’s hot iron, ready to strike. A doe in their headlights, a buck with a nice rack. Skipping through the center of their bullseye.

You bought a little palm-sized bottle for yourself and tucked it safely next to the stolen cash in the abyss of your purse. These tiny cons got you by, made power surge deep in your belly. It made loneliness feel worth it, knowing you had an upper hand to lean on if you were ever in a bind.

He bitched about inflation when you came out with less than was reasonable for the amount you spent, and you just shrugged. Not your cash, not your problem.

You bartered for a ride to the nearest motel, and now Tom-Tim-Jim is asking you over the purr of the engine if you need company for the night.

If you were feeling a little more you, you might’ve taken him up on it. Maybe he would’ve even paid for the room, maybe he wouldn’t get angry like your dad does. Maybe he’d be able to fuck you without hitting you.

You’re good at diffusing the temper in most men, can touch them in ways that make them grit their teeth, can be a good girl and go fetch.

But you’re not in the mood to bend, to give someone’s son — someone’s husband with a tan line around their ring finger — a place to wipe their shoes on. You don’t feel like wiping their dirt, your mascara from your eyes and saying thank you while they zip up their pants.

And you sure as fuck don’t fancy being on a milk carton.

“I’m alright, sugar. Thanks for the ride,” you say, dipping your chin to peer over your sunglasses. “I know where to find you, don’t worry.”

Yeah fuckin’ right.

He doesn’t try to conceal his disappointment, just sucks his teeth and squeezes at the exposed skin of your thigh. His way of saying goodbye to something he could’ve dripped sweat on, came in too early. You think your flesh might rot off in chunks.

You open the door and swing your legs out in a way that’s a little too eager.

Tom-Tim-Jim waves solemnly with two fingers up and two bent, and then he’s gone in an aggressive rev.

The motel might’ve been a kitschy dream in its heyday. It’s not a total dump; more of a vintage skeleton of washed-out pink and umbrellas that’ve been ripped by weather and overuse. There are a million faded emblems of cartoonish palm trees. It’s almost endearing how tragic it is.

You can tell that it was popular and swarming with tourists at one time — there are dusty, water-stained pamphlets lining the wall next to the front desk that brag Named one of Arizona’s top destinations in 1996!

A mounted fan whirs and oscillates, but it might as well be someone blowing hot breath down your neck.

There’s a tired woman holding down the fort at the desk with a name tag that claims Brenda, and she looks surprised to see you. You figure most customers are stopping in for a night’s rest on the way to somewhere more important, their final destination. But you don’t look like you have anywhere better to be.

“Hey, honey,” Brenda trickles, laced with an accent that’s more New Orleans than Arizona. “Need a room?”

“Yeah, just for the night,” you say, fishing out your wallet with confidence that doesn’t meet your eyes. “How much?”

“Forty-five a night, ‘less you wanna upgrade to the honeymoon suite.” She looks somewhere over your shoulder.

That’s nearly everything you have, but it sounds a lot like tomorrow’s problem. At least you’ll be safe tonight from the prowling stares of nighttime predators, and the leftover change will give you a decent vending machine dinner.

“Just a normal room’s fine,” you smile, sliding over the crumpled, stolen fifty.

Brenda types busily on the keyboard, asking for your name but nothing else. And when she hands you a plastic keycard, you finally relax your shoulders. Untangle the nerves in your lower back that are choking one another.

Room 17, it reads. Your oasis awaits!

You thank her, spin on your heel, and immediately bump chest to chest with something hard.

You’re eye level with a worn, cornflower blue t-shirt, ringed with a light stain of sweat at the collar. They’re grasping both of your arms to steady you, and you’re snagging the gaze of a tousled man with a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re goin’,” he murmurs, but it isn’t reprimanding or mean like you’re used to, just sickly sweet and Texan. Syrupy in a way that drips right down between your legs.

You don’t remember seeing anyone else in the lot when you’d pulled up. And the stealth of him entering soundlessly behind you sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, the clench of something that would be fear if it were any other stranger.

But he doesn’t look at you with intent to devour or to claim. Just eyes you like you’re anyone else. An equal. The bare minimum, but rare and shiny nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and he’s releasing you a little too quickly for your liking. Leaving brands on the creases of where your forearms meet upper and elbow.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

So you don’t.

You brush past him on the way out, a polite nod. And that’s that.

The heat is the kind that feels hotter, unbearable when paired with the shrill sing of cicadas. An endless buzzing that you think might be the sun sizzling on the concrete. If you stood in one place for too long, your flip flops might very well melt you in place.

Your room key clicks to unlock Room 17, and you push the door open to a heavy, humid space that smells vaguely of mold. You’re so grateful for the privacy that you can’t even bring yourself to wrinkle your nose.

Flip flops discarded, your toes sink into shag carpet — a dirty luxury that makes you moan. It’s only been two days since you left home, fled home, but it beats sleeping with one eye open on a bus stop bench.

You up-end your leather bag, dumping all of its contents onto the bed. Cigarettes, some loose film canisters, your toothbrush, a lighter. There wasn’t much time to pack, nothing worth bringing, and the less, the better. Nothing to weigh you down if you had to dip at a moment’s notice.

It takes you only a couple minutes and a light sheen of sweat to realize that the A/C is busted. Smothered, you try to crack open a window in the bathroom, but it’s no cooler than the hell you’re standing in.

When you let Brenda know, she just shrugs with an apologetic kind of half-smile.

“Most of ‘em are out these days, honey,” she says, and you decide then that it’s a small price to pay. “We got someone comin’ to look at it next week.”

You shoot her a smile, figure that she’s had enough rotten backtalk in her day. You scoop a set of flamingo-themed matches from the bowl on the counter and turn around, only to see a familiar blue shirt waiting his turn.

His eyes try not to roam, but he’s giving you a nod and stepping up without hesitation, asking Brenda for extra towels.

The way that she titters and blushes, you’d think he’d asked if he could spit in her mouth.

It irritates you, and you can’t say why.

The door chimes behind you as it closes, and you linger, striking a match and lighting a cigarette. When he emerges, a stack of towels so high it’s hitting his chin, you step in stride on the walk back. Tracing his footsteps, catching up with his shadow.

“You followin’ me?” you quip, a cigarette dangling from your mouth. The cherry ignites on every breath, smoke erupting in tendrils that hug each word.

He answers with a laugh, turns and squints back at you with one eye. Almost as if he was expecting you to ask.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? Could say the same to you.”

You stop in front of 17, hand over your brow to shield from the sun that’s winding its way down, getting ready to tuck itself in for the night. There’s nothing that touches your tongue that doesn’t sound exactly like a fuck yes. So you don’t say anything.

“Enjoy your sauna,” he chuckles over his shoulder, passing you with his towels on the way to Room 20.

—

Led Zeppelin filters out through the radio, half-static, half-electric. Your legs are crossed in the air behind you, and you’re posted up face down on the bed, kicking along to the beat while you flip through whatever Cosmopolitan someone left behind in a drawer.

Someone raps a few times on the door, and if it’s a repairman, they’re getting their fucking dick sucked.

You army-roll off the flowery duvet, abandoning a how-to on finding your g-spot, and you peer through the peephole.

Your breath hitches on a soft swear.

When you open the door, you see Blue T-Shirt standing there, skin creasing around his eyes slyly. An unopened beer hangs and swings from his restless fingers. He offers it up wordlessly, the butt of it pointed at you.

It’s ice-cold and slippery to the touch, erupting goosebumps on your forearm. Saliva coats your tongue, and you don’t think it’s the thirst for alcohol, but maybe the tall drink of water.

“Um… thanks?”

“Figured you’d either be dead by now or parched,” he says smugly, and it’s velvet to your ears.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. I got the fan to work at least,” you mutter, jerking your thumb vaguely behind you.

“Listen, uh —”

He’s rubbing the nape of his neck, and you catch the way the network of muscles flex from his elbow to the seam of his armpit. He looks like he’s in pain, struggling with the fit of a puzzle piece into something rough and jagged.

Something he shouldn’t be trying but has to see it through, exhaust it until it’s definite one way or the other.

You just squint, sucking in the corner of your lip between your teeth. You nearly grin, but it’s much more fun to watch than to connect the dots for him.

“A/C works in my room, so ‘f you wanted to… y’know,” he trails off, not even sure in his own offer. “No pressure. It’s hot as hell outside, don’t want you t’get heat stroke ‘f I can help it.”

This kind of approval you like. This kind that sizzles girl-honey between your legs, winning it from a man that’s playing to earn, not to cheat.

“I try not to make a habit out of going into motel rooms of guys I don’t know the names of,” you harp sweetly. But it might as well be a done-deal.

“D’you make a habit outta accepting beers from ‘em?”

You smile. Typically, yes.

“Joel.”

His hand shoots out, strong and suggestive. Fingers like alligator teeth that’ll grip you, hold you under until you thrash.

And you pluck your cigarettes and gifted liquor bottle from the bed, arms full when you carry them down to Joel’s room.

—

You’re sprawled on the full-size bed next to his, head propped up on hand propped up on elbow.

You’ve been trading your little fist of bourbon back and forth, swapping stories in the same way. Somehow, you fall into it easy like old friends, and it’s nice to follow someone’s lead instead of keeping one step, three, seven steps ahead. Arm outstretched to the door knob, feet ready to break into a run at the change in tone, blackening of pupils.

Without meaning to, you’ve wordlessly agreed that the person in possession of the bottle has the proverbial mic, and they swig to help with details and theatrics. It’s counter-productive in flow, but it makes you laugh when Joel exaggerates the story he’s telling on purpose, reaching out to pass it back and suddenly yanking it back, remembering a shade of gray or a funny expression.

Your knuckles keep zapping each other, brushing a little longer than the time before. There’s no numbness to consensual touch.

Joel’s mid-40s. From Texas, like you. He came to visit his daughter Sarah at college, says she’s growin’ up too fast, doesn’t need her old man anymore. It’s a thrill to see someone talk about their own flesh with love, admiration for who she is and who she’s becoming. You find yourself leaning in, enraptured that there are no IOUs or fine-print that you know to come with a parent’s love.

Mentions of his stubborn brother Tommy who he works with and who just can’t stop getting into trouble. The unspoken guilt that maybe he could be the one to keep him out of jail if he tried harder. It doesn’t work that way, and you tell him so.

You tell him about your dad when he asks about your life, your story, and you don’t know why you do but maybe you know exactly why. No one ever gets close enough to ask, so it comes leaking out of the corners of your mouth.

You’ve never told anyone, not even your diary, not even the guidance counselor who slipped a note to your fifth grade teacher and pulled you out of class. Shaky fingers, shaky limbs when they asked if they could roll up your sleeves just to see and you said no.

Crying because you knew your dad wouldn’t let you go back. Not to school, not to your friends.

You omit the nitty-gritty details, but Joel gets the gist. Swigs his share of the liquor a little too angrily with tight lips. Not like your dad does, but you don’t miss the irony of it all.

He holds anger for you, on behalf of you. It simmers as he listens to you in patient silence, coming to a boil at the bad parts when he gets up and starts walking lines in the shitty carpet. Pretending to look outside in interest at his truck parked at the end of the lot, but gripping the curtains until you can see every expanse of bone in his hand.

You don’t need this from him. It’s a hurt you’ve wedged between the pages of a book and doused in flames of acceptance long ago. But it spreads from your toes to your ears, the burn of someone feeling like this. For someone like you.

He finally settles down in an armchair by the window, a funny corduroy thing that would probably light up under a blacklight on one of those crime shows. Legs parted, a warm stare on the way you take up space on the bed. Facing him comfortably, your vision buzzing around the edges. A loose smile shared as if this room was meant for the two of you all along.

“So, what’s your plan?” Joel’s humming, his words getting lost in an echo of the bottle neck.

You don’t have one. Can’t have one when you have nowhere to go but gone.

It stretches on and on between you — a mouth opened and closed too many times on possibilities. If you admit to it, you end up with pity or an upper hand dealt to a stranger. You can’t afford to owe anyone a favor, nor can you front the cost of needing one.

But you’re so tired.

“Dunno. I’ll figure it out.”

“You got enough time for that?”

And you know what he means. Enough time in the motel, enough time before you’re a thief at wit’s end, doing anything for survival. He doesn’t need to ask to know you don’t have a destination, some relative waiting for you in a California dream.

You’ve excused yourself to the bathroom, soft radio bleeding in under the door, arms braced on the sink, all glossy eyes.

You want him, bad. But he won’t make the first move, won’t take advantage of what isn’t his and what others before him took without asking. You’re a pawn, entitled to the first move. The rejection would kill you, but not knowing would be worse.

He could hold you soft, give you something to think about when tomorrow rips you both in opposite directions.

When you pull open the door, Joel’s frozen in mid-stride towards you, like he’s just made up his mind about something.

He straightens but he’s still. Afraid of moving too fast, saying too much, scaring you into flight. Out of the unlocked cage of his room — something he did on purpose, because he doesn’t expect anything from you and wants you to know he doesn’t.

You meet him in his dusty shag quicksand. You take his wrist in your hand, kiss the thrum of life in the dip where veins meet palm. An offering.

Joel looks like he’s in pain, like what you’re doing is excruciating and thorny. The front of his jeans strains. He’s searching you for any hesitation, any obligation because he did something kind. He knows what currency you feel the need to pay in, and this isn’t that.

“Please,” you whisper simply. And he nods, accepting, succumbing.

There’s a careful meeting of lips, wanting to do it the right way, in the right order. When you push your tongue in, used to the pace of animals, he just holds your face and slows you down. It’s languid, his mouth showing you what sweet and gentle can taste like. Your tongues take their time, and your hands slip beneath the hem of his shirt, all ribbed muscle with a sprinkling of hair.

He shudders against the lightness of your feather-fingers.

Joel’s hands are peeling your shirt off, his thumbs resting to press against pillowy hips. He’s not letting your lips go, something like impatience stirring in you.

Doesn’t he want to fuck you hard? Fuck you fast and selfish?

Isn’t there a catch?

He’s taking his shirt off now, up and over. Carved by Michaelangelo, thrown up on a ceiling in a library book you read once. You’re touching him in reverence, but not letting yourself learn too much of him.

His eyes are molten. Joel walks you back to the edge of the bed, scratchy quilt tickling your thighs when you fall back on it. You start to pose yourself, angles that make you look more desirable, pliable. But he’s not paying attention to that, just unbuttoning your shorts, kissing the jut of every curve and permeating down to the bone, punching out a soft groan when he slides the denim off and sees the shining ambrosia that’s waiting.

He’s kneeling, tugging you down to meet his waiting mouth. And you’re just breathless, flinching when he pulls you apart, guiding your legs over his shoulders and wasting no time devouring you. Your legs, his bib.

Joel’s tongue flicks through the shell of you, teasing you in alternates of quick and slow, starving and full. It feels like a slice of heaven.

You pitch out a tangled gasp, hands instinctively moving to knot in his hair. Anything to hold onto, a different kind of grounding.

“So wet f’me,” he vibrates lowly into you, all husk. “Taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

He sinks a middle finger into you, and you’re keening, hips canting and unable to stay glued to the mattress. You feel him smile against your cunt, just pressing his forearm across your lower half to keep you still.

Joel’s twisting and working into you, onto you, and you’re so fucking close from just this — a tiptoeing to the edge that grows longer, more erratic in stride. He sucks your clit — pulsing sensitive, so swollen — into his mouth and grazes it with the tip of his tongue just so. Baring his incisors and closing around you in a delicious scrape like a Venus flytrap taking its meal.

You think you see God behind the flutter of your eyes.

You’re close enough to warn him, to rasp it out in the symphony of moans. His free hand reaches up to roll your peaked nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and he stretches you with an added ring finger. You’re writhing. Possessed.

He’s watching you through thick lashes. Letting your heels dig into his shoulders as the drenched sounds of you fill the room.

“Joel, please — I’m gonna —”

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he just murmurs.

You feel that little pull at your navel.

And you’re tipping in a freefall, seeing stars. You clench down around his fingers, fingers that are still pumping against that spongy spot deep inside you. Your arousal gushes, wet and sticky against the scrape of his beard. He laps you up, the sight making heat creep up your chest and wrap around your neck.

When he lifts his head, he’s high on it. Pupils dilated like tiny, round moons. Your orgasm glistens on him, smeared over lips and chin. The fur of a peach peeled back far enough to sink teeth into.

It’s fucking filthy.

Joel places open-mouthed kisses from your hip up to the center of your breasts, a trail of your orgasm shiny on your skin in perfect, sloppy Os. His breath meets your throat where he nips at you, and you don’t have time to drag in a breath before you’re tasting the saltiness of yourself on his tongue.

Your fingers fumble on his belt, practiced with years of releasing the tension on the metal prongs, the slithering sound whooshing from the loops of pants. You’re good at it, like you used to be good at gymnastics until your mom stopped getting out of bed to drive you.

There was always a little gold for contorting your body.

He detaches from you unwillingly, putting all of his weight on his knees and shins as he straddles the space of your thighs.

You’re pulling yourself up in a sitting position, pushing denim and boxers down past his hips. Letting his cock spring free, the head a dark pink and beaded with precum. You swipe the flat of your tongue against it, peeking up at him while you soak up the taste of it.

When you push the length of him into your mouth, ridged hard with veins, Joel tips his head back, chin to the ceiling. He groans something brutish yet helpless, cradling the back of your head. You’re seated in the driver’s seat, all control.

It’s new, different.

But then he’s moving his hips back, pulling himself from your mouth, wiping the saliva from your chin with a steady thumb.

“Don’t need t’do that,” Joel whispers hoarsely. “Not ‘f you don’t want to.”

Confused, you knit your brows. He laughs darkly, shaking his head.

“Didn’t mean it like that, it’s — it feels fuckin’ good,” he says, awestruck. “Would just rather make you feel good instead.”

Oh.

He doesn’t wait for an answer or a negotiation. The rest of his clothes pool on the floor in a pile, and he’s climbing back over you, an anchor or a buoy in a storm.

He lines himself up at the seam of you, puffy and so wet from before, nudging the tip of his cock at your warm center. A thumb coaxing the bud at the apex of you in lazy circles.

Joel’s sliding in slowly by each inch, filling you full until there’s nothing left and his patch of hair prickles the pearl of your clit. All you can do is whine and tense around him.

He’s resting tentative hands on either side of your face, indenting the weak mattress with handprints. He groans, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t give in when you try to rock against him.

“This alright?”

You’ve forgotten how to do anything, hoping that digging your fingertips into his forearms is communication enough.

“I’m gonna need a yes, baby.”

You feel around in the dark for the tether back to your body, and it jerks you like a marionette, giving him a nod.

“Yes. Fuck.”

That’s enough. He’s rewarding you with a roll of his hips, and you feel like you��re on fire. It’s a stuttering, painfully slow pace at first, his mouth so close to your ear that every grunt is amplified. But it evolves into something eager, unsatiated, snapping up into you with a relentless sort of fucking.

He’s hitting that place so deep within you, letting you unravel and grow hoarse from the moans tearing their way up your throat. That pressure is roiling, the kind that you get only when you touch yourself but intensified by a million.

It just feels so right, because there’s nothing to prove.

You’re ships passing in the night, strangers making a pit-stop on the way to nowhere. There’s no backstory, no history to make mention of. No shame in the morning when he inevitably rolls over and pretends to be asleep, and you scrub off the smell of him with your provided travel-size shampoo.

It’s not love, but it might be the closest you ever get.

The glow of him above you, a deity with his face screwed in agony. Chasing after you when he feels the tightening of your cunt, the easy glide of every thrust that tells him you’re close.

Then, you’re snapping like a rubber band. Gushing in a dripping mess that trickles to where your ass meets thigh. Crying without tears, overstimulated but blissful. Joel is quick to follow, like he’s been waiting his turn.

He’s trembling, emptying inside you in a warm flood. Groaning low and beautiful, gripping your hips to keep you flush to him.

When pulls out, tearing himself away, he’s slinging an arm over his eyes on the pillow beside yours. One hand on your leg to make sure you don’t go anywhere.

“So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him mutter.

At some point you drift off, his arm draped over you. You open a bleary eye to a neon 2:49AM that casts a halo over the nightstand. Joel’s tucked you in, the thin duvet snug up to your shoulder. He’s not snoring but not not snoring, just breath getting caught in his throat in a satisfied, well-spent way.

It’s all too much, too pure to be real.

Before you let yourself change your mind, you slink out from under the warmth of your generous stranger. You step in your shorts one foot at a time, tugging them up gelatin legs too springy from coiling and uncoiling.

You promise yourself that you’ll take just one mental picture as a keepsake, and it’s this. A sleepy Joel who will be well on his way to a second cup of coffee on the way out of Arizona, maybe even nursing a little headache behind his right eye. And he’ll remember an apparition of some girl he fucked in a motel. The touristy thing to do, a sight to see.

He might even tell Tommy, say you were a crazy little thing with too much baggage, but it was fun to stay up past his bedtime.

You don’t mean to do it, really you don’t, but you flip through his wallet that lays innocently on top of the TV.

If you take a little something, that’ll turn this into another one of your stories that you tell your kids born from a loveless marriage somewhere in the crevices of a future from now. It won’t pull on the tendons of your heart.

And it won’t mean anything. You won’t let it.

—

The next morning, there’s a soft knock at the door, and it’s probably housekeeping kicking you out for overstaying your welcome. Time to turn down the bed for the next lost soul. You imagine Joel’s long gone, hopped in his truck and back to a reality you’ll never meet him in.

Your fingers are slow to gather up your purse, and you’re shoving your toothbrush in from its place on the sink.

“I’ll be out in a second!” you yell in a voice that reeks of years of diner-flavored customer service.

More persistent knocking that borders on pounding. It shakes the chain in the deadbolt.

You’re yanking open the door, and there’s Joel, white shirt and jeans. And it isn’t that cushion of admiration from last night, no greeting with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Just a wolf coming to claim his continental breakfast.

Fuck.

You try to shut the door, suddenly too ashamed of what you’ve done, and to someone undeserving. Someone that showed you kindness, empathy.

But his boot catches the door before it can close, and he’s inside, slicing through the space between you. It’s not quite anger, but it’s shadowy. Sardonic.

Your shoulder blades kiss the cheap wallpaper.

“You’re real funny, y’know that?” he starts, and he’s smiling but not really.

Shrinking small, so small that maybe you’ll disappear.

There’s a tick of silence. His thumb skates to your collarbone and then to the hollow at the base of your throat. He wants to squeeze but he doesn’t, his fingers wrapping loosely around the column to fix you there. Heat creeps up the back of your neck into your hairline.

The instinct to flinch bubbles up against your joints, but you can’t bring yourself to.

“Y’think you can fuck me,” he muses, disgustingly deadpan, “‘n steal from me.”

Dread weighs heavy like lead in your stomach. You can’t stop yourself from shaking your head, still playing dumb.

He bristles at that, thunderous. You both know it’s a lie; you’re a hundred dollars richer than you were last night. His fingers briefly flex around you in a way that you’ve seen before, and horror hits a fever pitch in you.

Tears prick your eyes, and you’re putting your palms on his chest and shoving, but he doesn’t give. Unstoppable force meets immovable object, and all that.

It’s not so much the blaring punctuation in a sentence, the ticking of dynamite ready to blow. He’s confronting you with proximity, with your own dishonesty. Wanting to shake you and tell you that it doesn’t have to be this way.

Joel just leans in closer, almost grazing noses. You try to breathe around the lump of panic.

“The hell’s the matter with you?”

It’s disbelief, it’s hurt. In the same way, it’s understanding, incredulous. It’s him stepping back and loosening the hold around your neck like no one’s ever done; it’s softening and imploring.

He’s shoving his hands in his pockets, guilty and recoiling. Sorry he could even make himself look like one of them — a forced penance in the flesh.

There’s no answer that can justify what you did. Nothing simple about nothing personal. But truly… that’s all it was. A pie wafting steam on an open windowsill. Something to make you feel better about the void he’d leave.

“‘F you needed money, you coulda just asked.”

He’s disappointed, desperate. In a tone that really says, I would’ve done anything you wanted.

A dam inside you gives, crumbling deep at the foundation and knocking the walls down around you. Words don’t come, but you shove your hand in blind into your bag, pulling out the loose bill and extending it.

Joel sees the regretful offering and your heart with x-ray vision. That you think of yourself as a doll, less valuable without her box. Used without tags. Free to a good home.

He shakes his head, the softness of a keep it barely peeking out of his mouth.

You’re skinning yourself raw, wanting another way out but having none. With half a mind to say that the next night could come with fangs.

You feel the stab of relief, and shame. So much shame.

Like a soothsayer, he foresees the coldness of a bench, the shrinking of you into the safety of an alley.

You drop to your knees in exaltation, thinking you know what’ll fix this. You can’t see through the watercolor blur of your tears, but you touch his belt with fingers that are cold to the tips.

But Joel knows what you’re doing, shaking his head no no no.

He won’t let you do it like this. He drags you up gently by the elbows. Pulls you into his chest, says stop stop stop. Kisses your hair, then your lips. You cry until he can taste the tears, until the front of his shirt is damp.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp out roughly. “I’m so sorry.”

He tells you to never say sorry to him again.

—

Joel pays for a room for two more nights, but only one — his with the working A/C.

You move your toothbrush and your bag over to Room 20.

You go to the pool, swimming laps around him in a tank top and your cherry-embroidered underwear, squealing and splashing in a flail when he swims underneath your legs and stands up to hold you on his tan shoulders.

Sunscreen streaks greasy on your stomach when you lay out together on the loungers after. Joel likes a cat-nap with his face under a towel, grumpy and tired from the sun. But he never snaps at you, never gets impatient when you ask too many questions while he’s dozing off.

You learn the pinched expression he makes just before he comes. That his right palm has hundreds of lines you can see best by lamplight. He misses the noise of Sarah in his house, of sharing the coffee pot with someone. He doesn’t like the small piling of toast crumbs left only by him on the kitchen table.

He learns that you apologize for wet, clean hair on his pillowcase, for laughing too loud. Things that don’t need a sorry. A collection of oversaturated manners that might take time to unlearn, but he promises to teach you.

He learns that you approach an orgasm with tentative toes in cold water, almost unbelieving that sex can give, give, give instead of take, take, take. He learns that you like the meeting of eyes when he’s buried between your legs, pushing your thighs apart to keep from suffocating. That when he does let you get on your knees for him, you know just the spot to caress with your tongue on the underside of his cock.

Joel’s belt is snaked under your stomach, across your hips, fists intertwined in the leather as he pulls you back, slams himself forward. It bites and creates indents in your flesh, and you don’t care. He gives you marks to love, to admire in your reflection, never ones that are ugly. Never ones out of hate over spilled milk.

There’s a dirty slap of skin, growing louder, competing with your moans. Your nails are tearing into the cheap sheets, and Joel’s so close but won’t come until he coaxes another out of you. A grand total of at least four by now, but you’ve lost count.

At long last, you splinter around him. Pitching off the cliff in a cry. Joel’s leaning — his chest, your back — and spilling deep, holding onto you for dear life. You hear him whimper in a strangle. Big, tough game that’s been taken down with an arrow in his chest.

Hot tears are flowing out of you, stuttering sobs close to follow, and Joel pulls out slowly. Seems to know why. And he rolls you over, into him, hand careful in slow strokes against your hair.

You’ve never been good at goodbyes. Maybe that’s what this is.

Men like to say that women like you are insane, too analytical, too tear-streaked, too conscious of the way they look when they sleep. Because waking up with your mouth open, a drying corner of drool threatening your cheek is too human, not pretty.

Sometimes women like you are dead, rotting pomegranate flesh. Long forgotten in decay on the ground when the weight became too heavy to hold yourself up. And those men pick up your seeds and shove them squelching back into places where they don’t fit.

The winters come bitter and harsh, but you’re always reborn in the spring. And without fail, you grow back fiercely into a tree reminiscent of Eden, low-hanging apples plucked and bruised and bitten into once and spit out in tart disgust.

Women like you choke men like this with your pits, strangle them with vines, poison them with berries. They can consume, but so can you.

But then, in the ripe, cool shade of summer, you’ll have a visitor like Joel that will come with a basket and a blanket and they’ll stay and read books beneath you. They’ll enjoy your fruit, you’ll drip from their mouth and dry tacky like flypaper, and they won’t be able to imagine a day before you.

They’ll collect all the pieces of you on a Tuesday morning and give you change to get a Coke after checkout. They’ll tuck you into the front seat of their truck, let you put your feet up on the dash, hand protective and calm on your thigh while the other steers you both back to Texas. A new home without shouting and bottles thrown.

And they’ll stay through every season.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us au #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #fire walk #my writing #joel miller one shot #motherofagony

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Text

Be The One

Pairing: Lando Norris x Innocent/Virgin!Reader

Rating: R

Requested: Yes/No

Request: lando with an innocent reader who hasn’t had sex yet and wants to lose her virginity

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Smut!!! This is just pure smut with no plot, Oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, Lando is just a giver in this, inexperienced reader, experienced Lando, etc.

Synopsis: It was stupid to ask him to be your first, the stupid books and edits are to blame

A/N: This was supposed to be a blurb, but I kept writing and writing and I've just been sitting on this in my drafts, now finally posting it, also I don't show the full sex scene just the beginning and then after

"I'm sorry, what?" Lando was spread out on your bed, having just come over to watch some movies and enjoy a quiet night during his summer break.

Instead, he got you the literal version of an angel asking him to take your virginity. "I want you to be the one to take it. Please?" Lando has to clamp down that instant reply of fuck yes. You try hard to control the way you're looking at him.

Grey sweatpants and signature black t-shirt with that necklace of his resting on the collar. Arm behind his head, showing off the muscles that he's honed and crafted from all the training for races.

Lando just blinks at you, running through all the different scenarios at a time. A million emotions hit him, as he tries to think of the right words to say.

"Lando?" Shame and embarrassment hit you like a truck, he probably thought you were crazy. Asking him out of the blue like that. All he simply asked was what movie you wanted to watch and you reply with asking him to have sex with you.

"Sorry, I'm just.....I'm just trying to figure out what to say." To you, those words meant no, hanging your head you step back from the foot of the bed. "I shouldn't have asked, this was stupid. I'm sorry." Lando sits up quick grabbing your wrist, stopping you.

"It's not stupid. Y/n, what the hell is making you want to lose your virginity all of a sudden?" The question has you flinching, you didn't want to tell him the truth. That some friends got you some spicy books, and all you could picture was Lando doing everything you read to you.

That, you had a secret folder in your phone of edits that fans did. Like you said, it was stupid to ask your friend to do this. "Nothing, can we just forget it?" Feeling that burn in your eyes, Lando stands in front of you. "No, no we can not forget it. If you want to lose your virginity, I need a valid reason." His jaw was tight, he was getting annoyed.

"Fine! My friends gave me spicy books and they had...sex scenes in them and all I could think about was your stupid face and how much I want you to be the first one dammit!" Cheeks flushed, Lando's chest heaves as he tries to control that urge in him. "What kind of books?"

His annoyance quickly gone, replaced with his boyish teasing charm. "None of your business, this was so stupid. Lando, please." You whimper the last part. His entire demeanor changes, quickly thinking of gross things to stop the rush of blood heading south instead of north.

"Do you really want to lose it?" Voice dropping, you look up seeing his pupils blown wide. "What?" Taken aback by the 180 this man can give you in the span of a minute. "Your virginity? If you want to lose it, now. Here. I'll do it, but just one condition." Lando stepping back, his knees hit the bed.

He sits down, hands wrap around your exposed thigs as he yanks you to stand between them. Stumbling, you almost fall into him but balance yourself on his shoulders. "What's your condition?" Voice wispy trying to get air into your lungs. His hands moving slowly up your nightie.

"If you do this, ever get curious about something, want to learn something new. You come to me, only me." Jumping his hands squeeze your ass, his teeth showing as he smiles. Leaning in, he places wet kisses against the thin material. "Yes." Lando looks up, bottom lip pulled down as he places another kiss to your stomach.

"Come here." A gasp is pulled from your throat as you land on his lap, his face buried in your chest. You lean back, freezing when you feel something resting between your legs. "Lando." Unsure, he stops. He really wants to laugh at your confused face, but schools his features.

"It's just my cock, angel." Heat flares throughout your body hearing such a vulgar word come from Lando. "Oh." Feeling a little lost, Lando smiles. Scooching back, he sits up so you two are face to face.

"Hey, we don't have to do anything you aren't ready for." Thumb rubbinng softly into your thigh, you nod your head. "No, I'm ready. Just be careful with me?" If it was possible Lando would've comed right then and there and died happily. "Always." His teeth nip your bottom lip sucking it in, losing himself in you.

Whining you pull away, arching up into his hip the sudden need for pressure too great. "Lando, please it hurts." Lando groans pressing up against you as he rolls you over, so he's on top. "I know, princess. I'll take care of you. Such a good girl." Kissing his way down your body.

He stops at your shorts looking up at you. "Hey, what I'm about to do is get you prepped. I'm...on the thick side and considering your a virgin it'll hurt and be very uncomfortable. But, prepping you will help, are you okay with that?" You nod but Lando doesn't budge. "Y/n, your words. I want to hear it out loud no nodding." You whine just wanting him to touch you.

"Yes. Yes Lando I want you to touch me and fuck me." Lando's eyes darken as he pulls your shorts and underwear off in one swoop. You squirm at the coolness hitting your bare pussy. "Cold?" Lando giggles, running his fingers over your thighs. Looking down he smiles seeing your trimmed but still have hair.

"Lando, please." He shushes you, taking his pointer and middle finger running them over you watching the way your hips jolt up and your face scrunching at the unfamiliar feeling. Slowly he pulls your lips apart, seeing how your wet but he wants you wetter.

"Are you okay with using my mouth and fingers? You can say no the either if you want, princess." Thinking it over you remember the videos and how woman seemed to really enjoy a man's mouth on them. "I'm fine with it." You gasp feeling Lando's mouth placing a delicate kiss.

He takes his time, wanting to learn what you like a don't like. He's careful to read to your face not wanting to push to far he hesitates to use his tongue. But hearing your moan when he moves it up and down, he's found something. "Lan...lan." You whimper as he grows more confident.

His lips wrap around your clit which has your legs clamp shut on his head. He laughs which has you giggling as he pries them off his neck. "You okay?" Licking his lips you nod. "Sorry, it sent this odd feeling up my body and I just reacted." Embarrassed at your reaction to it.

Yet you can't help the relaxed feeling seeing Lando's soft smile. His hands rubbing over your body helping you feel better. "It's fine, Y/n. You're experiencing this for the first time. I'm taking my time for a reason." You groan hearing that, hating he's having to take his time.

"I hate this! I don't want you to take your time, if I wasn't a stupid virgin, you could've just fucked me fast and hard." Lando narrows his eyes, pinching your side you squeal slapping his hand away. "This is your first time, Y/n. No one's first time is magical. Am I experienced? Yes, but do you know how many times it took me to feel comfortable? A while, it's not going to be fireworks and all that. But, you asked me to take your virginity and I'm going to be gentle and make sure you remember with fond memories." You can't help but snort on a laugh at his speech.

"Oh shut up, I'll leave right now and leave you a virgin." Lando teases, but you just mesh you lips together both of you falling into one another. His hands palm your tits, pulling out sweet moans as he goes back between your legs. "Lando, wrap...yes." Fingers tugging his hair when his lips wrap around your clit.

He pulls off, telling you he's about to use his fingers. Taking several deep breaths you relax as he slowly slides one finger into you. "How does that feel?" Using his free hand to rub circles into your hip. "Weird, it hurts, but not in a bad way just in a, never felt this before." Lando nods curling the finger and moving it in and out. "Oh, that's....not bad." Lando nods going back down.

He adds a second finger which has you panicking but he talks you down explaining why he's using another finger and it helps you. Lando is gentle as he gets you ready, he smiles seeing that you're ready. "Okay, you're stretched enough. Are you ready?"

"I think so, is it going to hurt?" Lando sits up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes, but I'm going to be slow and make sure I don't hurt you. If you say stop, no, or anything like that. I'm stopping. You just need to let me know." You watch as Lando takes off his underwear, holding a condom you can't help but stare.

It's probably odd, but he has a pretty cock. He wasn't lying when he said he was on the thicker side. "You're pretty." Lando snaps his eyes up at you, covering your mouth you look away. He can't help the blush on his cheeks, no one has ever called him pretty. He liked it.

"I'm ready." Wanting to move on from you calling him pretty. "Okay." He shuffles forward, placing your legs around his waist. "Try to relax, it'll help." Closing your eyes, you think of something relaxing. "Oh." Eyes opening Lando stops, having only entered you past his tip. "Are you okay?" You blink trying to figure out what you're feeling.

Yes, it stinges, but it doesn't hurt as much. "Yeah, I was expecting it to hurt, but it just stinges." Lando smiles, leaning over as he kisses you on the nose sliding the rest in. He places his head in the crook of your neck while the two of you adjust. "Lando?" He hums as you smile, fingers playing with the baby hairs on his neck. "Thank you, for doing this. Also, you can move." His back shakes, laughing at your words.

Lando moves his hips carefully as you wrap your arms around his neck, breathing as you get used to the feeling. Lando and you whimper and moan as you start to relax more enjoying this. You giggle when you kisses you on your neck which has him laughing. He was right, your first time was weird but also comfortable.

Laying in bed, feeling oddly tired he smiles drawing patterns on your stomach. "You're right, not the best but maybe we should practice more." Lando snorts, eyes growing heavy. "Easy, it's the orgasm thoughts. Let's wait till tomorrow." Nodding you roll to your side curling into Lando.

"I'm glad you asked me too."

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buckys-wintersoldier · 2 months

Text

Another kind of heating | Bucky Barnes

Pairing -> Switch!Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Switch!Girlfriend!Reader

Summary -> You just want to warm your feet but this leads into a way hotter situation with your boyfriend.

Wordcount -> 2.6k

Warnings -> (E) 18+, Minors DNI, Smut, teasing, mention of mommy kink but just teasing, fingering (fem!receiving), squirting unprotected p in v, multiple orgasm, his hand around readers throat

A/N -> I want to thank @imtryingbuck. First of all thank you for writing the first part of the Oneshot, but as well thank you for listenting helping to come up with that idea. I love youuu. Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

The heavy raindrops beat surprisingly gently off the window as you and Bucky curled up together on the couch, watching as the scene on the screen unfolded in front of you.

Despite having the heating on, and that you were in between the ends of the couch and Bucky, and also having the fluffy beige blanket that Wanda had brought you for your birthday, you were still feeling cold. Especially your feet.

Bucky mumbled softly, telling you to stop moving, but you just couldn’t find a comfortable position to sit and find the warmth you were so desperately trying to get. After moving too much, Bucky pulled your legs over his lap, his left hand going to your thigh, his metal thumb moving up and down slowly, and his right hand doing the same against your left calf.

It helped. A little.

Your feet were still so cold, and you were pretty sure that you couldn’t feel them anymore. And that’s when a brilliant idea popped into your head. Shifting once again, you sighed happily.

"Ahh, baby, your feet!” Bucky’s screech would have made you laugh if it weren’t from the fact that your feet were already warming up.

“What do you mean?” Asking in the most innocent voice you could muster.

“They’re freezing!”

“I know”

“And you’ve put them on my dick.”

“And they’re getting warmer now.”

In turn, your boyfriend of three years sent you a glare that to others would have them backing off, but you knew that he could never do you any harm or ever be mad at you, just like the time you were bored and started putting magnets on his left arm just to see if they would stick to the prosthetic limb - they do, by the way. He sent you the same glare that day too, before letting you carry on entertaining yourself. “Fine, now carry on watching the film.”

“Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too, baby.”

Finally warm and cozy watching the movie play, you found yourself getting turned on by the slow movements of Bucky’s fingers creating invisible drawings on your leg.

"Baby,” his tone was warning you not to carry on with the movements that you were doing, but did you? No.

“What? Buck I’m not doing anything.”

“Your-ah, baby”

“What Bucky?”

“Princess-“ the nickname, ignited the urge to carry on your actions happening under the blanket. “stop.”

“Stop what, Bucky?”

“Y-you're making me hard.”

“With my toes? I’m just wiggling my toes, Buck.”

"Yeah, on my cock.”

“You’re silly; let’s keep watching the fi-“

"Baby, my cock's hard now.”

“Sounds like a you problem, not a me problem.”

“Baby… please”

You smirked when you saw the way he shifted, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your leg.

“You sound like a little puppy, baby,” you teased.

He groaned, unsure if it turned him on or if he just wanted to show you that he wasn’t the puppy you thought he was. Bucky guided one of his hands until he reached your ankles and gripped them, pushing them apart so he could sit between them. And he did; he moved so his knees holding your legs spread apart and towered over you; his hands were on both sides of your body.

“You’re such a tease, doll,” he groaned, his lips crashing on yours, and the little puppy with his soft blue eyes turned immediately into a hungry predator, which had pounced itself on its prey.

He lowered his kisses down your jawline until he reached your neck and bit into your skin. Bucky smiled when soft moans left your lips because of the slight pain and the pleasure he caused with his bites. His hand slid down, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, and he pulled them together with your panties down.

“Someone’s really needy, huh?” you grinned and ran your fingers through his soft brown hair.

Bucky chuckled before his hand moved up your inner thigh until he reached your already throbbing pussy. His lips formed into a smile when his fingertips touched your wetness, slowly making their way through your folds until he reached your entrance. His fingers leaked with your arousal when he lifted them slightly to look at them.

“Who is the needy one, doll?”

“I’m not the one with a hard member because his girlfriend warmed her feet on her boyfriend's crotch.”

“But I didn’t do anything yet, which caused MY pussy to be wet like that,” he said, empathizing the: ‘my pussy’ to make it clear it’s his and only his.

“Yours? Prove it, baby boy. Show me what’s yours.”

And he did as you told him. Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, not giving you time to adjust to them; he pushed them deep inside of your tight, clenching walls. You moaned and gripped his hair; you tried to ground yourself while he thrusted them, enchanted by the scene in front of him in and out of you. He loved the sound that is constantly leaving your lips when he hits your sweet spot. He could look at you the whole day, as long as you made those delicious sounds. Then he lowered his head, kissing your thighs before he made his way to your cunt. His tongue licked through your wet folds. You clenched around his fingers, and Bucky groaned in response, imagining how much you would tighten around his dick; you would squeeze him until he came, and you would have to take everything he would give you.

“Bucky, please. It feels so good.”

“Don’t dare to cum before I allow you to cum. I want to hear that you're mine and that this pussy belongs to me. Say it. Scream it and then cum,” he said, turned on by the surprised expression on your face.

Bucky was always possessive around you, especially during sex, but he never wanted you to scream those words. He loved when you told him you’re his, but this turned you on beyond belief. He moved his fingers at a brutal pace inside of you, curled his fingers, and hit your sweet spot a few more times while his tongue joined his fingers inside of you.

“Fuck-“ you mumbled, throwing your head back.

Bucky groaned. He felt your walls tightening around his fingers and your wetness growing, while his rock-hard cock pressed against the fabric of his pants. He chuckled softly when you pushed yourself more against him. His tongue and his fingers felt so good that you felt like you couldn’t hold your orgasm back. The knot in your stomach grew, and Bucky knew; he slowed his fingers down and let go of you.

“Bucky- please.”

“Cum, all over my fingers,” he told you.

He curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot again, and made you cum all over his fingers. You moaned and arched your back while he moved his fingers, still in and out of you.

“Bucky- so-so sensitive,” you whimpered.

“I know, but give me one more, and then I will give you what you really want, oke?”

With a nod, you threw your head back into the pillow, arched your back even more, and met his fingers. They were so deep inside of you, hitting all the right places, and you felt the growing pleasure in your stomach again. His thick fingers moved slowly, but you felt every tiny bit of them. Your walls squeezed them perfectly, and Bucky couldn't wait to shove his dick inside of your tight, warm, and clenching hole.

“Mhm, so close again. Huh, doll?” Bucky teased you; his thumb rubbed small circles over your clit.

Your own loud moan interrupted yourself before you told him that you’re so close. So close that it just needed a few more strokes of his fingers against your walls, and you would cum a second time over his fingers.

Your fingers dig into the fabric of the couch, grounding yourself. Bucky smiled mischievously while he looked at you, then back down on his fingers. He loved the view of his fingers disappearing inside of you. The sounds they made whenever he pushed them back into your wetness. His fingers were covered in your arousal. Bucky lowered his head and kissed your clit before he dipped his tongue back inside of you with his fingers.

The combination of his tongue and fingers and your already growing feeling in your lower stomach were enough to made you come again. You screamed his name, almost shattering walls, when he curled his fingers and made you squirt while he hit your sweet spot over and over again. Bucky smirked, knowing that the neighbors could hear you screaming out his name while the waves of pleasure were rushing through your body.

“I need you inside of me, Bucky,” you whimpered.

“I’m inside of you. Don’t you feel my fingers inside of you?”

You groaned frustratedly. Bucky knew that you wanted his dick buried in your tight pussy, but the way you looked at him with your big eyes, trying to ask him for his dick but being too shy to ask him for it.

“Bucky-“

“Come one, doll. Tell me what you want.”

He pulled back and smirked at you and your flushed face, slowly taking off his belt to undo his jeans. He teased you by pulling his jeans and boxers down, revealing his hard shaft. You decided to tease him too by taking off your shirt and bra slower than he would have liked.

“Do you need my help, baby?”

“Be a good one and take your hands away; take off your clothes completely,” you demanded with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully but did what he was told. He removed the clothes from his body before he was kneeling between your legs again. Your shirt and bra are placed on Bucky’s clothes. He licked his lips and grabbed his cock, sliding the tip of it through your wet folds.

“What do you want me to do, doll?”

“Your dick, inside of me.”

He grinned, gripped your waist, and turned you in one movement around so you’re on your hands and knees in front of him. He then lined himself up, groaning softly when his sensitive tip brushed along your folds. His dick, now covered in your arousal, slowly entered you and was greeted by a welcoming squeeze of your walls, pulling him deeper inside of you. You both groaned, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips.

"Fuck, you always feel so perfect, so fucking tight for me,” he mumbled, letting you adjust to his huge size.

Bucky slowly started to thrust inside of you. He pulled his dick almost completely out of you before he pushed himself back inside. His lower stomach pressed against your ass when his dick was buried deep inside of you. You moaned, walls clenching around his dick, but you wanted more. You wanted him to be rough, not soft and careful; you wanted Bucky to fuck you, not to make love to you.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby boy. Such a sweet and shy little one for me, huh?” you teased him with a smirk.

“Don’t push the limits, doll.”

“Buck, you can be honest that you’re such a little subby baby for me. You thrust so softly and shyly inside of me; it’s ok; mommy takes care of you when your dick is sensitive.”

“I’m only soft because I love you. But you know I can be rough,” he said, pushing his dick harsher inside of you.

“Prove it, baby boy. Show mommy that you can fuck her and not just make love to her.”

Bucky groaned, a smirk formed on his lips, and his grip tightened. He then pulled out of you, slamming his dick back inside of you and making you moan loudly. You arched your back and pressed yourself more against him, while his balls always met your pussy. Bucky speeds up a bit more, fucking you senseless while your walls squeeze him, and he tries not to cum immediately.

“B-Bu-. F-uck,” you whimpered.

“Can’t even use your words anymore? Already fucked dumb, doll? Did I fuck you so well that everything in your mind is my dick inside your tight hole?”

He loved teasing you, the way you gripped the fabric of the couch or the way you pressed yourself more against him, quietly asking him for more. Bucky slid his metal hand along your back until he reached your neck. He then wrapped it around your throat, making you gasp. The cold of his metal hand lets you shiver, but at the same time, it’s cooling the heat of your skin softly. He pulled you with his hand around your throat, your back pressed against his muscular chest. He didn’t squeeze his hand; he was just holding it there because he knew how much you loved it. The new angle made it possible for him to thrust deeper inside of you; you both moaned loudly whenever he hit your sweet spot and made you clench your walls around his huge dick. Your pussy was still so sensitive because of the orgasm before that you felt every little bit, every vein of his cock stroked along your walls.

“Bucky- I’m s-so close.”

“Hold it. You’re so perfectly warm and tight.”

“Bu-“

You squeezed around him again, more than before, making him gasp.

“Fuck- Baby. Continue this, and I need to cum too,” he says, pushing your back more against him.

His hot breath met your neck; he kissed your shoulder and jawline before he pulled out of you.

“I- urgh,” you gasp, then try to complain that you were so close and he just pulled out of you. You got interrupted when he turned you around.

“Shhh, I wanna look at your beautiful face when you scream my name, doll,” he said with a chuckle, kissing your lips softly.

When he gripped your hips again, he pushed himself inside of you, groaning when he immediately hit your sweet spot. Bucky fucks you like an animal in need, exactly what you wanted and you’re just a few more thrusts away from your orgasm.

“Don’t dare to stay quiet when you cum, I want to hear you.”

You nodded. Bucky's metal fingers found their way along your lower stomach and through your folds until he reached your clit. You yelped when the cold met your warm skin. He rubbed circles over your clit, you arched your back, throwing your head back, and your hand wrapped around his arm to ground yourself. Your nails dug into the metal, while the pleasure inside of you grew until you came. You screamed his name; walls were clenching and squeezing his dick.

“Mhm- can I cum? Please. Can I?” Bucky asked, chasing his own orgasm.

You placed your hand on his cheek, and your thumb stroked over his lips when you nodded.

“Cum, baby boy. You did so well,” you teased, but Bucky was too deep in his own release and pleasure that he didn’t say anything about you telling him he was a submissive little one.

When you nodded, his thrusts became sloppier, and Bucky came just a few thrusts after you. His seed painted your walls, and the two of you moaned softly about the feeling while he slowed his thrusts.

“I love when you scream my name like that, doll,” he admitted, kissing your lips softly.

“I love when you get turned on just because I warm my feet on your dick.”

“No- you moved your toes. You kinda messaged my dick, and you were needy because of me stroking your leg.”

You groaned, frustrated, but nodded. He was right; he turned you on beyond belief just because he stroked your thigh. But who blamed you when you had such a good-looking and lovely boyfriend? Every girl would be needy when he just touched them.

Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @sergeantbarnessdoll @kandis-mom @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @randomawesomeperson102 @rogersbarber @bucky-barnes-lover @felicitylemon @cjand10 @bookishtheaterlover7 @casa-boiardi @futurequeen2018-blog @flstrawberry

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fushic0re · 4 months

Text

❝𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃❜𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒❞

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢, 𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢, 𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜, 𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢, 𝗔𝗢𝗜 𝗧𝗢𝗗𝗢, 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗨 𝗞𝗢𝗡𝗚

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟎 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ─ 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. alcohol consumptions. drunken antics. smut; penetrative sex, sex in a public space. slightly cracky.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ─ in true hallmark movie fashion, the holiday party ends with your crush getting so drunk that he spills professions of love.

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

SATORU GOJO

Whiney. Clingy. Horny.

First of all, we know this man is a lightweight. Don’t even be surprised that he’s easily swayed by the influence of alcohol.

At some point (for his own sanity of course) Nanami tried to curb him whenever he wanted another drink…but he gave up.

So now you’re stuck with a very drunk Satoru Gojo

One minute he’s being his usual irritating self, the next he’s practically slurring as he blurts out really, really stupid shit.

You’re desperately trying to reel him in because your students are literally in the same room as you and do not need to see their teacher drunk or hear the inappropriate things he’s saying.

But Satoru Gojo cannot be stopped.

He also cannot for the life of him contain any of the feelings he has for you in his body. So despite the fact that he would probably benefit more from throwing up all the sake bombs he’s had, he throws up drunken confessions.

Though it’s no secret that the both of you harbor feelings for each other, neither of you has explicitly acted on them…until now.

“My GOD. You are so pretty. Like, I wanna take off my blindfold to appreciate you fully but your beauty just makes my eyes huuuurrrt!” “...Thank..you? It’s definitely your Six Eyes though–” “No, it’s all the pretty.”

“Heyyyyy, dance with me!~”

Yelling “I WANNA HAVE SEX WITH YOU PLEASE–” across the room.

Nobara for sure gets it on video. Megumi and Maki are appalled. Yuuji and Panda standing there with no thoughts behind their eyes. Toge’s lowkey entertained but will continue to remain to look unbothered. Nanami is rubbing his eyes and sighing deeply. Shoko for SURE eggs him on. Masamichi is ready to throw them both out.

You take it upon yourself to try and see if someone can get him home while you continue to celebrate with the kids, but Shoko is too drunk. That leaves…

“Nanami, can you–” “Absolutely not. Have a good night.”

And that’s how you end up hauling that man back to your apartment…because he caused a scene when you tried to take him home to his.

Literally just clings to you and cannot be detached from you for the life of him.

You set up a bed for him on the couch, but the second you turn around–

“I wanna sleep with youuuu!” Satoru whines, hugging you tightly from behind as you wash your face for the night. “Why are you kicking me out?”

You sigh exasperatedly before shooting him a stern look.

“Satoru. Couch. Go.”

You go to lay in bed and after having your eyes closed for only five minutes, your door opens and he’s crawling into bed behind you whining.

“Wanna stay here with you. You have more pillows.” “I can give you extra pillows if you want som–” “Boobs. I want your boobs :D”

At that point, you literally just give up. He’s spooning you from behind, clinging to you so tightly that you literally feel his dick hardening against you as his large hands knead your breasts.

His mouth is pressed right to your ear, murmuring promises as he begins to finally fall asleep.

“I swear…when I’m more sober, I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you. Promise.”

You both take work off the next day. Everyone knows why.

SUGURU GETO

Seductive. Suave. Charming.

When Suguru gets enough alcohol in him, he turns into such a romantic.

Everyone thinks you guys are together and have been together for a while solely based on his body language.

Without any inhibitions left to deter him from fully expressing his fondness for you, he allows you to be his center of gravity–when you move, he moves.

His body naturally leans towards yours. He adjusts his body so that it’s clear his attention is only on you even when you’re not speaking. No one else exists to him.

Very put together. If it weren’t for him being more flirty than usual, you wouldn’t even think he was under the influence.

Whisks you away shamelessly away from other people when he feels like you’ve been giving them more attention than them.

You’re talking to a group of coworkers when suddenly Suguru comes up from behind you and places a hand on your waist.

“Excuse me, ladies. You wouldn’t mind if I stole this beauty away for a dance, would you?” He purrs.

But he’s not asking. By the time he’s done speaking, you’re already being swept away by him. He doesn’t even wait for a response, nor does he care to notice the way said coworkers gawk at you jealously.

This man literally twirls you around the dancefloor with a big smile on his face. His eyes never leave yours.

“What’d gotten into you?” You laugh softly as he dips you.

He simply shakes his head and chuckles.

“Nothing. I’m just really in love with you and there is quite literally nothing in the way to get in my head or stop me from saying it anymore.”

It’s a simple, straightforward, and intimate confession that is oh so Suguru.

KENTO NANAMI

Our main is a heavy drinker who can handle his liquor expertly, so…you’re the tipsy one.

You, Satoru, Shoko, Utahime, and Kento are all at a sushi bar celebrating a successful semester and the steady growth of your kids.

Too swept up in the good vibes, you don’t stop yourself from having a drink of choice with Shoko each time she orders a sake bomb.

Little by little, your laughs increase until they’re filling the room.

Kento is the first to notice, glancing down at you with a barely noticeably softened expression as all of your worries are alleviated–even if it’s just momentarily.

The two of you worked more closely than the others knew. Yuuji had taken a close liking to you, so naturally, you and Kento convened often to discuss his progress and needs.

Of course, these little meetings extended into ones of a more personal nature like grabbing lunch, a bakery run, or even a simple walk.

It was safe to say that Kento Nanami, the adult of all adults, had developed a soft spot for you.

Which is why he can feel his face heat up and his heart begin to pound against his chest as your head falls against his shoulder, giggling as you stare up at him.

Unable to help himself, he gives you a gentle smile, placing a hand on your cheek.

“You’re really warm.” He comments. “Would you like to get some fresh air?”

“Yea! I wanna see all the twinkly lights the stores have put out!” You chime, tugging on his sleeve.

The blond affectionately groans before helping you into your coat and slipping his on, stepping out of the booth.

“I’m taking her for a walk. We’ll be back.” “Ooh! Can we–” “No.”

With that, he helps you up and out of the restaurant, your hand clasped in the crook of his arm.

Your friends are suddenly sobered up at the table, shooting each other shocked expressions.

“...You guys saw that right?”

Meanwhile, you and Kento are walking down the street leisurely as you literally babble nonstop.

“I wanna take Yuuji here for dinner one day, we should go together! It’ll be really nice for us both to spend time with him, since we’re basically like his parents right? You know what parents do? Kiss! Why haven’t we–”

Kento halts your runny mouth with a finger pressed to your lips, the most honeyed expression on his stupidly handsome face as he gazes at you.

“As adorable as you are at this moment, I really want to have this conversation with you when you’re mind is clear enough to remember it.” He whispers, pulling your coat around you tighter as a gust of wind blows by. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji literally cannot get drunk, so guess who's spilling their guts? You.

You’re out with some girlfriends for a Friendsmas dinner when the sangria hits you all a little too hard.

Your best friend is left with no choice but to take your phone and call the guy you’ve been seeing to come pick you up.

While you loved Toji, admitting it yourself–but especially him–was a terrifying concept to you all because of a certain little sea urchin-like haired toddler…Megumi.

God, you loved that kid. You loved him to absolute death. He practically felt like your own child. Which was even scarier because what if things didn’t work out between you and Toji? What if one day he decided that his late wife couldn’t be replaced? Would he resent you?

All of that reservation flies out of the window when you’re carried into his apartment and are greeted with a sleepy Megumi in the doorway, having been watched by a neighbor.

“Mama?”

You literally sob. It’s quite embarrassing considering your inebriated state, but the emotions cannot be contained any longer.

The toddler frowns, his father’s expression mirroring his own. He had never seen you so…fragile.

“God, I love you guys.” You confess tearily. “I’m so sorry that this is how you have to hear it but–”

Your interrupted by two forces against you; muscle arms around your shoulders from behind and a small body hugging your front tightly.

“Silly, mama.” Megumi giggles.

Toji’s deep laugh fills your ears alongside his deep, adoration-laced tone.

“Yea…silly mama.”

AOI TODO

Friendsmas gets a little too lit when the great Aoi Todo is around.

Yuuji playfully insists on trying every flavor of Soju and of course, his brother tags along.

But in true Aoi Todo fashion, he does things with a little too much gusto….he’s drunk as shit now.

Eventually, the girls decide to break off and convene at your place for a sleepover, having had enough of the boisterousness for the night.

You’re literally minding your business having a conversation with Mai, Maki, and Nobara while Momo and Miwa make everyone some late night noodles when suddenly a love song by Takada is being blasted from your balcony window.

“This that…?” Miwa squeaks, clearly caught off guard.

It definitely is. The flow of the cursed energy, Takada blasting, there’s no questioning who the hell is outside of your window.

Nobara already has her phone out to document the moment, the Zenin sisters are snickering as they stare at you, Momo is actually floored. Miwa…beyond floored.

“You have so much shit to tell us.” Nobara laughs.

“Yea, what did that happen? You and Todo?”

“NOW apparently!” You whisper frantically. “What do I do–”

“TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE IN APARTMENT B347, THIS IS FOR YOU!”

You’re literally shoved outside to confront a drunk Aoi Todo singing along to his idol as Yuuji holds a Bluetooth speaker in the air next to him.

“You guys…”

“Y/N I WANNA MARRY YOU, REMEMBER THIS MOMENT WHEN IT’S TIME TO TELL OUR FUTURE KIDS HOW WE MET–”

“Please come inside!” You hiss.

“DO YOU SHARE THESE SAME SENTIMENTS OF LO–”

“Yes, for the love of god, I love you too, but please come inside before I get evicted.”

“SUCCESS, BROTHER!”

SHIU KONG

Horny. That’s it.

You’re with him at some fancy restaurant dressed to the nines for a business dinner with colleagues of his.

Every person at the table is shady at very best. Hell, yourself included.

But there are no thoughts of right and wrong when a tipsy Shiu whose lips taste like the smoothest, finest whiskey assault your own as he thrusts into you vigorously from behind.

“Good girl. I knew you’d get us that deal…you’re too damn pretty for anyone to say no to, sweetheart.” He purrs into your ear, words slightly slurred.

Your hands grip the edge of the counter tightly, letting out a breathy laugh in between hushed moans.

“How is it that you fuck better after a few drinks in you?” You tease, earning you a deep chuckle.

“Because you’re my woman and I love you. And I wanna keep doing this with you, living this life with you. No matter how messed up it is.” He pants against your ear.

#satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader #kento nanami x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #aoi todo x reader #shiu kong x reader #satoru gojo smut #shiu kong smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen

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mountainficss · 3 months

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missing wonwoo rn :( still thinking about pervybestfriend!wonwoo </3 you’d sit with wonwoo and finish the movie you both started earlier, glancing at him in between scenes and enjoying how tense and embarrassed he looked. you knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on the movie after you sat on his lap and teased him for being a pervert. so you decided to make it worse! :)

“wonwoo,” you’d coo, his head turning slightly to look at you. his face was still flushed as he made eye contact with you. he still couldn’t shake the image of you on his lap. “yeah?” he muttered shyly. he watched as you toyed with his glasses that you never gave back to him, tracing the frame and temples with your middle finger. “let’s sleep in your bed tonight,” you’d smile innocently, studying the way his breath seems to catch in his throat. his eyes dart away from yours, a hand traveling up to anxiously play with the neckline of his t-shirt. “we—we usually sleep in here,” he’d gulp, eyes scanning the living room halfheartedly. when you slept over at wonwoo’s you’d usually take the couch, while wonwoo would take the the smaller love seat on the right side next to it. even though his legs are longer than yours he refused to let you sleep on the smaller couch every time you offered. typical chivalrous wonwoo behavior. “my neck’s all fucked up,” you’d lie seamlessly. “it’s not a big deal. we’ve been friends for ages, dummy.” you could tell wonwoo felt apprehensive, his eyes practically glued to his lap to avoid your gaze. “okay,” he’d mumble, reluctantly agreeing. he knew this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t help wanting to be closer to you. his longtime best friend/crush wanting to sleep in his bed with him? how could he refuse?

after doing his nightly routine he’d shuffle under his covers, sitting upright and leaning against the headboard as he tries to wind down for the night. he’d click on his bedside lamp, pulling a book from his drawer and reading where he left off the night before. he’d listen to the faint sounds of the water running in the bathroom while his eyes scan the pages, the gentle light of the lamp helping him settle down for a bit. he finally has a second to just breathe while you’re in the bathroom, but when you exit he’s right back to feeling breathless and needy. you had thrown on one of his white t-shirts, the bottom reaching down to your mid-thigh. your face was soft and glowy from your skincare routine, and the cold air in wonwoo’s room caused your nipples to poke through his shirt. butterflies swarm his stomach as he scans your form, only allowing himself one look before he buries his head into the pages of his book again. you leap onto his bed obnoxiously, the both of you bouncing twice from the force before you cling to his arm and lean your head on his shoulder. “not tired yet?” you’d ask, curiously scanning the pages. he shook his head slightly. “i just wanted to—” he peered down at you through his glasses. your (his) shirt had ridden up as you laid next to him, giving him a perfect view of your thighs and a glimpse of your black panties. oh. “uhm—just wanted to read a bit before bed,” he choked out. his face was beet red, trying his damnedest to keep his eyes stuck to the words on the page as you wiggle beneath the blankets next to him. “ahh,” you replied, scooting closer to him to keep yourself warm. “you’re so pretty with your glasses on, wonwoo.” you’d comment shamelessly, reaching up to adjust them. you couldn’t help but smirk at his embarrassed expression. you threw your leg over his body, sliding yourself to straddle him for the second time tonight. you eased yourself between his arms still gripping his book, resting a hand on his chest and brushing his cheek with your knuckles. you you were practically splayed over him, your heat pressing to his clothed erection. “they look nice on you.” wonwoo can’t seem to meet your eyes, swallowing dryly and clearing his throat. “th-thank you,” he quavered, closing his book gently and completely disregarding what page he was on. he dropped the book absently onto his nightstand. he couldn’t bring himself to care about it when he had your warmth grinding against his length and your soft chest pushing against his.

“you’ve thought about this before, huh?” you’d smirk. he wouldn’t have the words to respond, would just stare in awe at your form above him as his pupils trail down to your lips. you removed your hand from his cheek, grabbing his chin roughly. the sudden action caused a sound of surprise to escape him. “answer me,” you demanded firmly. he’d nod shamefully after a few seconds, not trusting his voice to carry out without cracking. you gave him a devilish grin, loosening your grip on his chin and leaning in to press fleeting kisses onto his jawline. “see,” you’d smile, taking pleasure in his soft sighs and feeling him grow harder underneath you. “i told you you were a pervert.” you’d snake one hand under his shirt, lightly grazing over his torso and chest. “n-no,” he’d whisper, hands grasping the sheets beneath him to keep his hands busy. “‘m not a pervert. i swear.” you’d chuckle at his flushed cheeks, pulling your hand from under his shirt to pry his fingers from the sheets. you’d guide his hands under your shirt, settling them on your waist. you grind down harder onto him, a choked sound leaving him as he grips your waist eagerly. “what else do you think about, wonwoo?” you tease, sucking and biting marks onto his exposed neck. “nothing!” he blurted too quickly to ever be believable. “i wouldn’t think of you like that. it’s wrong. it’s not polite.” you pull away from his neck to admire his pretty features, leaning close and almost brushing your lips against his. you’d feel the rise and fall of his chest as he stares at your lips, moving closer to you so slightly that you might’ve missed the movement entirely. you didn’t answer, just let out an amused exhale and pressed your lips to his in a heated kiss. after a short pause he kissed back timidly, his hands unconsciously sliding further down to your hips. you kissed him harder, sliding your tongue between his lips as he whimpered pitifully. the heated make out session threw both of you in for a loop, finding yourselves even needier than before. “can i take this off?” you urged, fisting at his shirt roughly. his glasses were slightly fogged from the heat and his lips were swollen from you tugging them between your teeth. “take it all off,” he pleaded, his nails digging into your flesh. “don’t care what you do to me. i’m yours.” you’d scoff at his begging, ripping his shirt over his head and tugging down his boxers. his cock sprung out and smacked against his stomach, a pathetic yelp leaving him at the feeling. you laid next to him and wrapped your fingers around his length, stroking at a maddeningly slow pace. “what do you think about, wonwoo?” you’d press again, refusing to give any more pleasure until he spills his secrets to you. he squirms slightly underneath you, hesitating at first. but as you circle your thumb around his slit he stumbles, “you.” you twist your fist once around him as a reward and he continues begrudgingly. “wanna…f-fuck your thighs. and f-fuck you while you wear my clothes.” his eyes slightly roll back when you pull your panties to the side and grab his hand to guide it to your core. his fingers graze your slick, feeling how wet you are for him. you slide his middle finger inside, sighing quietly as you feel him gently fuck into you. you rubbed your palm against his head, feeling him jerk in sensitivity. “you are a pervert, huh wonwoo?” you’d breathe, clenching around his finger and gripping his cock with more pressure. his eyes would burn into yours with a glazed over look, panting as he nods. “i’m a pervert,” he’d huff, the warm light of the lamp dancing on his face and illuminating the small droplets of sweat beading at his forehead. he slid a second finger in, whimpering at the feeling of your warmth. “i’ve thought some really impolite things about you. i-i’m sorry,” he spilled, his face burning hot with arousal and shame. “wanna mark you, a-an’ feel you around me…” you’d twist around him faster, pulling erotic moans from him. he’d plunge his fingers into you quicker, the squelching sounds from your heat and from his cock arousing him even more.

“i know you have,” you’d purr, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth and watching him chase your lips for more. “knew you were secretly a filthy perv.” his hips slightly fucked into your hand, feeling his climax approaching at your degrading words. “i am,” he cried timidly. “’m sorry. i’ve felt this way about you for s-so long. it’s so wrong of me, i’m disgusting—ngh—‘m s-sorry, sorry…” he’d gasp wantonly, feeling your walls spasming around his fingers. “don’t ever apologize, wonwoo,” you’d soothe, your orgasm bubbling up and causing your body to twitch. you’d fist his cock hard, twisting your hand around him at an inhuman pace. “i like this side of you. even sweet boys like you think about dirty shit.” you’d smirk evilly, letting out soft moans next to his ear. his cock throbbed in your hand as your climax washed over you, your hole clenching around his fingers as they’re coated in your release. your sweet moans and crude words sent him over the edge. “cum, wonwoo. good boys like you deserve to feel good,” you’d whisper, feeling his fingers still inside you and a loud moan leave his lips as he shoots white ropes all over your hand. you’d stroke him slowly through his climax, only stopping after he’s twitching from overstimulation. his head rests against the headboard, his glasses still slightly foggy. he’d wear a look of post-orgasm bliss, but his eyes would reflect uneasiness. “i’m not good,” he’d blurt between labored breaths. “i’m a pervert. i shouldn’t think about you that way. it isn’t respectful to you—” you’d cut him off with a big smooch, pulling away and snatching his glasses to wipe them clean on your (his) shirt. “wonwoo, you’re literally the most respectful person i’ve ever met. that won’t change no matter what kinds of fantasies you have about me,” you’d reassure him, peppering a few more kisses onto his jaw. “besides,” you’d slide his glasses onto your face playfully. “i’m a pervert too.” <333

tagging @sdoulc for that pt. 2 <3 hope you enjoy!

#seventeen smut #thoughts #seventeen #smut #sub!idol #jeon wonu #wonwoo smut #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen imagines #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #mountainficss

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