#obviously i am not okay after last night

[tchaikovskym]

I've had lazy autumn just to jump in ITS THE SECOND WEEK OF THE YEAR YOU HAVE TO DO 186469 THINGS FOR WORK AND 789 THINGS FOR SCHOOL AND 4 THINGS FOR ENSURING A NICE WEEKEND TRIP AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#how is your 2024 im suddently overwhelmed with tasks which makes me feel kind of powerful ngl #im like. barely managing everything. but im managing! #i have an exam on wednesday. i havent covered all the exam questions yet but its like. ethics. meh. #but i have to do my best. and its a bit much. #considering i will work until wee hours of the night tomorrow #okay technically im working until 9pm but i feel like ill be done at like 20pm. or maybe 20:30 #and i have so many events tomorrow. #there are new girls to help but they are. new girls. they have to be supervised and trained #and i start at 8 am tomorrow ;( #and the day after that #and on friday too #but on thursday i have to be at uni at 9am #to learn the last of methods i dont know abt yet #i dont think i can hold in any more information in my head but man i hope i will #also my cat has been acting weird. she gets into sleeping position and hisses. my hypothesis is that its bc of the spicy calamari that were #left in the open on the table for a long time and my mom saw how she ate a rather large bit #so i just hope shes suffering from spicy tummy and nothig more #moreover i just recruited two of my coworkers to do research with me #which lead to a problem: how am i supposed to draw blood three times in a span of 4 hours #obviously cathether would be the best option #however my supervisor told me that in previous experiments it kind of got crumpled after use #and it was more painful to insert a new cathether than to just puncture veins multiple times #but i think thats messed up. so i want to do a pvc #my solution was like aha maybe a butterfly needle - it wont crumple! #but then the guy was like girl it will only stay in if the participant is not moving. #and i was like yeah no prob but like nope actually. the participants have to eat and stand and i have to let them go to the bathroom #so im trying to find a middle ground here and maybe inserting a regular cannula but getting the blood with a regular syringe would do it #bc like syringe is slower than vacutainer and maybe it wont crumple the cathether #but like no one does it with a syringe #although i did find some articles abt using that method when patients have problems

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

you’ve been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember.

sure, he had never outwardly called you his girlfriend, but when you were both seven years old, he came up to you. chest heaving slightly from running up and down the hill where he had gotten you a freshly plucked out bouquet of flowers. the roots were still clinging to them and he got dirt all over your hands from forcibly grabbing them and shoving the bouquet in them before you could even form a sentence.

“since you accepted the flowers, you’re mine now.” he mumbled, his little hands tightened into fists at his sides and chubby cheeks a cute shade of pink, staring at you as confidently as he could.

a grin grows on his face when you respond with a simple “okay !” and a bright smile. the grin on his face never disappears even as his mom scolds him for getting you both all dirty.

you were katsuki’s in middle school too, when the boys in class decided to play kiss, marry, kill and he had somehow gotten dragged into it. the girls in your class tried their best to seem uninterested, claiming the boys were being childish, but you noticed how hard some of them were straining their ears trying to hear what the guys were talking about in their own little corner of the room. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little curious as well.

katsuki was as ruthless as you’d known him to be, choosing to kill any girl that wasn’t to his liking, which ended up being all of them. much to the other boys’ chagrin, claiming he had no taste.

then your name was brought up.

at that, his eyes widened and he turned in his seat to see if you were watching. you had never turned your head away so fast in your life and you were pretty sure you heard something go “crack”.

he clicked his tongue. mumbling something about how stupid the game was before muttering out a “kiss yn, marry yn and kill that other bitch.” before getting up and stomping away, claiming he had to go to the bathroom followed closely by the whoops and hollers of his two friends behind him.

you both made eye contact when he walked out and you think you’ll never forget how red his cheeks were.

you were katsuki’s when he was the one to walk you to and from school everyday, claiming you would somehow get lost without him. you were katsuki’s when he had begrudgingly shoved homemade valentines day chocolates into your arms, mumbling something about how you had been upset nobody had gotten you anything last year, conveniently leaving out the fact he had scared off all the other guys trying to offer you anything.

you were katsuki’s when he grabbed your hand during the winter because he said you’d “end up dying of hypothermia with the way you’re chittering over there.” and you were his when you were the only person he laughed around. loud, genuine laughter that you and only you could squeeze out of him. you were katsuki’s when he randomly kissed you goodnight at your door one night and he’s been doing it ever since, and gets all pouty when you turn away from his kisses to tease him.

“are we dating ?” you had asked him. you’re both in high school now and you’re in his dorm room. your legs are on his lap and he’s got a comfortable grip on your leg, which tightens after he registers your questions “hah?” he looks utterly confused and a little insulted as he looks back at you, his entire face scrunched up in confusion. you pinch his nose and he swats at your hand.

“are we dating ? like—am i your girlfriend.” you say again and katsuki’s face scrunches up even harder. he huffs and looks back at his phone, landing a little smack on your leg still placed in his lap. “ ‘course yer my fuckin’ girlfriend.” he spits out, obviously irritated. then he looks back at you “I haven’t made it obvious ?” he says sarcastically. one of his eyebrows lifted as he pokes at your leg still very much in his lap.

you simply shrug “s’not that. it’s just because you’ve never actually asked me out before, so i was a little confused on where we stood.” you mumble. he stares at you while you speak and he stares a little longer before sighing. then he leans towards you and flicks your forehead.

“ow !”

“dumbass.” he murmurs. there’s a slight pout on his face and his cheeks are light shade of pink when he looks you in the eyes again. he grabs both your cheeks with one hand and smushes them together to push your lips out and presses multiple wet kisses onto them that have you squealing and squirming. his wet lips are pulled into a smirk when he pulls back and you try your best to at least look a little angry, you really do. but it’s useless when he looks at you like that.

“of course you’re my girlfriend” he reiterates. his smirk’s been replaced for something softer, something more sincere as he gazes at you with so much unadulterated affection it makes your head spin a little. “you’ve always been mine.” he says it in a teasing tone and his hand is still smushing your cheeks out and it hurts a little but his eyes are still the same. they’re warm and soft and so, so enamored with you and only you.

when he finally let’s go of your face and pulls you fully into his lap, you realize katsuki’s been yours for as long as you’ve been his.

you smile brightly at him but turn your nose up when he leans in to kiss you again. “i still haven’t heard what i wanna hear though, mr. bakugou.”

he rolls his eyes and pinches at your thigh as he mumbles out a “don’t call me that.” sighing, he looks at you intensely and you suddenly feel very shy.

“will you be my girlfriend, ya shitty girl ?” and he says it as a joke, you both know it is cus his lips are already forming into a smirk the second he finishes his sentence. and you’re pulling at his nose the moment you register it, but you’re both smiling hard. he laughs and you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the sound. “what’s your answer, pretty ?” he asks playfully and you pretend to really think it over just to mess with him, and giggling out a “yes!” when he suddenly pounces on you. flipping you both over and tickling you mercilessly, calling it revenge for you “taking too damn long to answer.”

you’d been katsuki’s for as long as you can remember, and you hope you can be forever.

#just a silly little thing i wrote in record time in the bus #i love him sm yall dont get him like i do #just silly boyfriend katsuki tingz #him n my oc r childhood friends in my canon so thats why i made this #i love my boyfriend #I didn’t know how to end this one either #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou drabble #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x oc

[augustinewrites]

“babe. baaaabe. babe!”

“what, satoru?” you ask sharply, looking up from your laptop to where your boyfriend has spread himself across your couch, his legs in shoko’s lap. 

he lifts his shades to look at you. “was i your first crush?”

“yes,” you answer quickly.

you immediately return to the report you’re writing, missing the face shoko makes before she says, “that’s not true.” 

“ieiri,” you whisper harshly, but it’s too late. your boyfriend’s already jumped off the couch to lean his palms against your desk. 

“what? i wasn’t your first?!”

“you were,” you insist, glaring at your friend. “shoko is clearly misremembering things.”

“am i though?”

“you know what, it’s fine,” gojo sighs, slipping his shades back on and rolling the sleeve of his t-shirt up so he can flex. “obviously i’m way cooler than whatever lame schmuck high school you was crushing on.”

behind him, shoko’s scoff is the final nail in your coffin. “nanami is way cooler than you ever were.”

you slap your forehead, bracing yourself for gojo’s inevitable overreaction. 

but he doesn’t get the chance, interrupted by a light knock against your doorframe from, you guessed it, nanami kento.

“yaga said you wanted to see me?”

cue overreaction.

“you had a crush on— on him?” 

nanami swats gojo’s finger away from his cheek. 

“oh my god,” your boyfriend breathes, currently experiencing a quarterlife crisis. “you liked this emo nemo?”

nanami ignores him, sending you a questioning look. “he doesn’t know?”

“what is it now?” satoru asks, slumping back into the couch. “did you guys go on a date or something?” 

your lack of answer is enough for him to let his head fall back rather dramatically. 

“can you blame her?” shoko asks. “he was sexy back then. in an edgy, mysterious kind of way. meanwhile, you were like…if a string bean made love to a cauliflower.” 

even gojo doesn’t have a witty retort prepared for that. 

you decide to clear this up once and for all. “it wasn’t just about looks. you were busy after— after riko. you didn’t have time for a relationship or…for me. you wanted to get stronger and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“you wouldn’t have been—”

“i would have.” you shrug. because you know him, and you know what he was like. “and that’s okay because we were still kids, satoru. and it was only one date! no need to get so torn up about it!”

_____

“what is this?” you ask later that night, when you find satoru hauling a huge box into your apartment.

“it’s a bowflex!” gojo explains proudly, patting the unopened box. “shoko said that i was built like a string bean, so i’m gonna buff up like nanami! and when megumi moves out next year, i’m gonna turn his room into a gym.”

you lean in the doorway, amused. nanami also has a home gym. “is that why you’re also wearing a suit and tie instead of your usual uniform?”

he does a show spin, letting you take it all in. you don’t even want to know how much it must have cost. “do you like it?” 

“you do look very handsome.” 

“i know,” he winks, cocky as ever. “now watch this.”

he brushes a few strands of hair over his eyes, lowering his voice a few octaves as he says, “taxes. office work. satoru, i respect you so much!”

you walk up to him, brushing the hair back to press a kiss to his forehead. “nanami would never say that last thing, but i do like the effort.” 

he loops his arms around your waist, returning the kiss and murmuring against your skin, “did it turn you on though? maybe i should get an office job—”

“satoru,” you whine, resting your forehead against his chest. “it was just a short-lived crush. and it was forever ago! i’m pretty sure you’ve had crushes that weren’t me.”

“nope,” he hums, resting his chin atop your head. “all i’ve ever wanted is you. all i’ve ever needed…is you.” 

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

[osaemu]

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?!" FT. GOJO SATORU

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: gojo mistakes your period symptoms for signs of you being pregnant.

contents: fem!reader. mentions of pregnancy and periods (duh), gojo is an idiot (obviously), innocent miscommunication lol. gets pretty suggestive.

just because satoru gojo's the strongest sorcerer on the planet, that doesn't mean he's the smartest one; especially when it comes to you.

not too long ago, you got your period, and the cramps have to be the most painful thing you've ever experienced. nestling yourself farther in between the couch cushions, you wrap your arms around your stomach and wince, eyebrows furrowing. somewhere in the background, you hear satoru enter your house and call for you, but your stomach hurts a little too much to allow you to do more than hum in response.

"baby?" satoru calls again, poking his head in the living room and smiling when he sees you. "hey, i'm hom— babe, you okay?"

you open one of your eyes (which was previously squeezed shut) and look at him, a soft whine slipping out from your lips when the pain in your stomach goes up a notch. "hey, 'toru," you mumble, watching him quickly plop down besides you on the couch. his eyes round in concern when he notices how tight your teeth are pressed against each other, and a moment later, satoru scoops you up and holds you in his lap.

"is.. this 'cause of last night?" satoru murmurs, stroking your hair as you squirm in his grip. his eyes are focused on your scrunched-up face as you fidget, struggling to find a comfortable position.

"i dunno," you mumble, assuming that satoru's referring to the way you scurried off into the bathroom the second you and satoru finished round after round in his sheets. funnily enough, your interpretation of the events is starkly different than satoru's.

you had immediately gone to the bathroom because you suspected that your period might've come, and you were right. but to satoru, he had something very different on his mind; especially since last night was the first time you two had fucked without protection.

satoru pauses before replying, face slowly tinting pink as his version of the events settles in. he had no idea your departure from his arms so soon after sex was because you just wanted to check for your period; on the contrary, he thought you ran into the bathroom to check if you were pregnant.

"are you—" he starts, dipping his chin and looking you straight in the eye. satoru's azure eyes carefully take in your expression, studying your features for a sign of what's to come.

you nod. "yeah, i am." on your period, that is.

satoru's eyes widen and the corners of his lips twitch with a smile. "is that why your stomach's hurting?" he whispers, and you hardly spare a thought as to why his reaction was nothing like what it usually was.

"duh," you huff, automatically assuming that he's talking about period cramps. "why else would my stomach be hurting?"

"holy shit, are you kidding?" satoru breathes, eyes lighting up like a child's would on christmas. you make a face, confusion evident all across your features.

"that's not the reaction i was expecting," you note tentatively. satoru's mouth falls open a little and after a moment, he immediately dips his head and kisses you, long and slow. his mouth tastes like spearmint (like always), and something about the way his lips melt into yours feels... different.

"is this better?" satoru whispers, smiling against your lips. you nod, carefully removing your arms from your torso and wrapping them around satoru instead. you nod hazily, more invested in the way satoru's mouth collides with yours than in anything else.

"much better."

"anythin' for my pretty girl," satoru murmurs, eyes softening every time they settle on your face. his hand trails down your waist and settles on your tummy, and he slips his hand underneath your t-shirt and rubs the skin with his thumb. a couple more seconds slip by in silence, with the only sound being the soft breaths you two take in between kisses.

when satoru finally tilts his head up and takes a longer breath, you both open your mouths to speak at once.

"i can't believe i'm gonna be a dad."

"my period cramps feel a lot better."

the two of you stare at each other in silence for a long, long second. you blink and ask, "what did you say?"

satoru tilts his head like a confused puppy, eyebrows lifting in uncertainty. "uh, what did you say?"

you look away, cheeks heating up as you mumble, "satoru, i'm not... pregnant...?" you stare at him blankly, matching the confused look on his face. "i'm on my period, baby. what did you—"

"oh, shit."

"yeah."

five awkward seconds go by until you clear your throat and smile up at him hesitantly. "i mean... d'you want a kid?"

satoru's face somehow goes even redder, which you didn't know was even possible. after a moment, he nods, and the subtle movement is enough for you to grab his face and pull him in to kiss you again; and you stay like that for the rest of the night.

#osaemu #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[dearlyjun]

5% tint ☆ c. yeonjun

☆ PAIRING: sugardaddy!yeonjun x collegestudent!reader (f)

☆ GENRE: smut (18+ readers only! dont make me block you)

☆ SUMMARY: you didn't think that doing well on an exam would mean that you would be fucked in the front seat of a porsche; good thing your sugar daddy has 5% tint.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

☆ WARNINGS: gendered terms are used (girl), semi public sex, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of praise from yeonjun, yeonjun drives a porsche (I think its a valid warning), yeonjun is wearing rings, making out, creampie kink perhaps?, dirty talk, obviously car sex!! lmk if i forgot anything its almost 1am and im an old lady.

☆ AUTHORS NOTE: so heres part of the concept that I literally could not stop yapping about if I tried. combining my interests here: a hot man taking care of me and a porsche of my dreams. I am actually considering making this a series, with a backstory and everythingg so lmk your thots :)

a big thank you to @silvergyus @nightlyawnzz @hearts4huening for being my beta readers for this, and I may use your services in the future.

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST!

walking to the front of your lecture hall, you collected the results from your latest exam. After finding your name in the pile of papers, you could barely contain your excitement when you saw the boldly printed 100% on the front.

Yeonjun would be so happy.

You quickly walked back to collect your things, before pulling out your phone to text him since he was picking you up from class.

you: going to be walking out in a few. I have good results!!

yeonjun: ahh my smart girl. I'm waiting for you out front.

Soon after you walked out through the double doors of the building that you were in, spotting Yeonjun’s gray Porsche parked up front.

Yeonjun had a pretty dark window tint, so you couldn’t see inside that well. You opened the door, and slid into the passenger seat; Yeonjun beaming.

“There’s my girl.” He had the biggest smile on his face. “Look at you, dressed all cute.” He was referencing your plaid skirt and big crewneck sweatshirt that was actually his.

“Did you just come from the office or something?” You asked him, leaning in to kiss him. “You look so nice.” You smoothed your hand over his button down dress shirt, making him smirk.

“Now let me see this test, huh?”

“Okay.” You quickly dug the scantron out of your folder that you had. Handing it over to Yeonjun, leaning over his center console as he examined it.

He was smirking.

“Yeah, one hundred percent.” You spoke with a huge smile on your face.

“Ah, see I knew you’d do well.” Yeonjun put his hand onto your jaw to kiss you.

You hummed against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. “I missed you last night, daddy.” You kissed him again.

Yeonjun smirked against your lips before pulling away slightly. “Yeah? You know I want you to focus on your school too.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s easier to study when I’m sitting on your lap. You know?” You reached down to feel Yeonjun’s cock, which to your surprise was half erect.

“With my cock inside of you? Princess, you know you can’t focus.”

You remembered the time you swore that you would sit still and study on Yeonjun’s lap while he worked. You didn’t last five minutes before you were fucking yourself on his cock.

You pouted as Yeonjun moved to kiss you towards your neck. “But I’m such a good girl for you, Daddy.”

Yeonjun practically choked back a moan; if his cock wasn’t hard before, it definitely was now. “And I always reward you, don’t I?”

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, then went to unbuckle his belt to lower his pants. You let out an audible noise when he finally lowered his underwear, leaky, pretty cock out on full display.

“Go ahead and sit on it, pretty girl.” Yeonjun spoke, shuddering slightly when he swiped the tip with his thumb.

You felt a sudden tinge of shyness when you took off your shoes. Yeonjun could practically read your mind.

“The tints are too dark; no one can see you.”

“Okay, help me.” You answered, slightly laughing at the fact that you were going to climb over the console of a car that cost as much as your parents' house.

“I got you.” Yeonjun held onto you. Before you sat down on him, he pulled the fabric of your underwear out of the way.

“Oh my- fuck, you’re so wet.” Yeonjun gasped. “I’ll slip right fucking in.”

You lowered yourself onto him, and it was painfully slow; making you feel every inch of his cock.

Yeonjun was seconds away from ruining his leather with his fingernails with the way that he was gripping onto the passenger seat.

“Daddy…your cock. Fuck.” You sighed, dropping your head into his neck; taking a breath of his sweet cologne. He was fully inside of you, nuzzled up into that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Yeah, baby I know.” His hands were roaming your thighs and ass. Your underwear was cutting into you, but you couldn’t care less.

You slowly started to grind onto him, trying to find a rhythm in the limited space that you had. Yeonjun looked ahead, subtly watching if anyone walked by his car.

“You look so pretty, you know.” He spoke into your ear. “My dick inside of you in the front seat of my Porsche.” He suddenly gripped onto your hips, fucking you onto his cock.

“You’re my good girl, you know that?”

You couldn’t even answer, just let out a whimper of a moan.

“Repeat it back to me, baby.” His grip was so tight you thought his rings were going to make marks in your skin.

“I’m your…good girl.” You nearly choked on your words. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Yeonjun could already tell by the way that you were clenching around him, and he probably wasn’t going to last much longer himself.

Yeonjun turned your face to look at him in one quick movement. “Yeah? I’m so fucking deep in you aren’t I?” His voice was low; you knew what he was doing.

The sounds of your cunt were obscene; Yeonjun loved every second of it. He studied your face as he angled your hips differently, cockhead hitting so deep that your jaw fell slack.

You’ve never looked so pretty to him. Honors student studying biology. Probably going to end up being a doctor. He knew you’d be decorated in cords at your graduation. But now, he was hitting so deep you couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you tried.

Letting out a rather loud whine when your orgasm finally hit you, Yeonjun kissed you, shushing you. After all, his car only had a tint; not soundproofing.

“Cum in me. Please, daddy.” You were nearly delirious, whimpering expletives. Yeonjun knew you were actually being serious, because you always begged him to. “That’s my reward, right?”

And how could he say no? Not when you were whining, begging as you pulled on his necklace to kiss him.

“You can take it all?” He asked. Stupid question. You always could, even if he had to fuck it back into you.

You eagerly nodded, lips jutting out to a pout before you kissed him again.

“God you drive me fucking insane.” Yeonjun’s last words before letting go of his orgasm that he was trying to hang onto. “You feel so fucking good.”

The fact that he was probably making a mess out of his seat was sent to the back of his mind. He’d deal with that later, because the moan that you let out made it all worth it.

“Fuck.” He was panting. “You have to be quiet.” Grinding his hips with yours; his cock was still inside of you making you slightly wince at how messy everything felt.

“Shit.” You muttered, looking down at where the two of your bodies connected.

“Yeah, I made a fuckin mess.” Yeonjun jokes, his hands roaming your thighs. “We should probably go back to my place….” His voice trailed off like it was a question.

“Hmm?” You were confused. “I thought you texted me earlier that you wanted to go to the Prada store, no?”

“Yes…” Yeonjun bit down on his bottom lip, smirking. “But I don’t think I'm finished with you yet.”

☆ TAGS: @mhasimp666 @yunsbby @sikkkko

(strike through indicates I am unable to tag, please make sure your tagging feature is turned on!)

#choi yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun x reader #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader

[kleem-o]

Choose me her: Gojo x reader

part 2

a/n: since y'all really like the first one i'll give it to u guys since i love y'all. warning! theres smut here. here's part 1

"I-I can't, I fucking lover her"

Gojo hunches over as he vomits on a nearby bush in the park. "You're pathetic" Nanami sighs frustrated, as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Come on man, you can't keep being like this." Geto says as he pats Gojo's back. It has been weeks since you and Gojo fought, and Gojo did not hear a single word from you. You blocked him on all social media accounts, even Facebook. So what did he do? He drank and drank. He would often call up the boys to go get a drink at a pub, and the few first times Nanami and Geto were okay with it, they were comforting their friend after all, but after the 10nth time, it became ridiculous. "I-ugh I gotta call her." Gojo was a mess. He was loudly crying like a little kid, longing for you. He took out his phone, and upon turning it on it was already at your contact. "Man-tsk! come on stop it!" Geto took the phone away from Gojo, hoping to stop whatever mess he'll make that would make matters worse. He took a glance at Gojo's phone and the sight was..

Wed, June 14 at 9:13 PM Hi baby I'm very very sorry. Please believe me I really didn't mean what I said Y/N. Can you please come home? Can we please talk? I'm sorry baby I really am. I love you.

Wed, June 14 at 10:02 PM Y/N?

Wed, June 14 at 10:25 PM Y/N baby its getting real late now. Where are you? I'll come pick you up. Please answer baby its not safe out. I love you.

Wed, June 14 10:46 PM Y/N please pick up the phone, where are you?? Are you okay?? Please answer babe

Wed, June 15 1:09 AM Hii baby I heard from Shoko you were at your parents' house. Lets talk soon okay? Goodnight. Sweetdreams. I love you.

Before Geto could read more of the endless messages of 'I love yous' and 'I'm sorry' and 'Come home', Gojo snatched his phone back and immediately called you. Of course only for it to be added to the countless missed calls he made. This made the man cry harder as his two friends helplessly watched. "Why don't you just go to her house then?" Nanami pointedly asked. "Obviously I already thought of that! I did and when I went there she wasn't there anymore, so I went to her apartment, but I think she told the landlady not to let me in the building.." Gojo kept his head down, too ashamed at everything that happened. All of this was his fault after all. If he listened to you none of this would have happened. "Okay, look. Drinking to kill your liver isn't helping anyone, you don't even like alcohol! Go talk to her. Stay in front of her building or something! We'll try our best to help you-" "We??" "-yes, WE will help you" Geto looked at Nanami with a furrowed brow, there was no way he was letting Nanami escape. "But for now, lets just go home. You're too wasted to talk to anyone anyway." Nanami says. The two drove Gojo home.

Gojo's apartment was silent, too silent. He misses the way you would greet him when he got home, the way you would kiss him. He misses hugging you from behind as you cook, and he misses how you would bite his arm as he does the dishes. He misses all the silly things, all the things that reminded him of you. As he got to his bed he knew that a killer headache would welcome him in the morning, and you weren't there to cuddle it all away. He thinks of you as he lies down on the cold big, was the bed always this big, bed. He hugs the pillow that you always used, and closed his eyes wishing it was you.

Gojo woke up to the smell of bacons. He blinked then quickly ran to the kitchen "Y/N?!" He was shocked to see not you, but his best friend? What was she doing here? "Oh! You're awake, here I made us breakfast." She says as she sets the bacon down on the table. "Umm.. What are you doing here?" Gojo remained standing away from her as she says "Well I heard that you got crazy wasted last night, so I came here! Not even a thank you??" She giggles but Gojo remained serious as he rubs the back of his neck "Look, Y/N and I got in a fight and- I think we should establish some boundaries." The girl looked at him shocked, like she was offended "Satoru I am your best friend. Who cares what that bitch thinks?? You guys are bound to break up anyway, besides" She went closer to Gojo and hugged his arm "you got me anyway" Gojo's blood ran cold. He was beyond disgusted not just by what she was saying, but by the fact that he never knew how she felt and that you were right. Gojo immediately threw her arm off in anger. He couldn't believe this. He felt betrayed. And oh how he wishes he could turn back time, he really fucked up this time. "What the fuck?? First of all fuck you for calling my girlfriend a bitch. Who the fuck do you think you are?? You think you're special?? Well you're not. Don't even think to compare yourself with Y/N. I don't fucking like you and I don't want to ever see you again" The girl ran out of his apartment crying in embarrassment. Gojo had to talk to you.

He drove fast to your apartment. And as if luck was on his side today, he saw you just about to enter the building. He quickly ran to you, catching your wrist gently. "Wait! Y/N." You looked at him as he tried to catch his breath. "Please, can we talk?"

You led him to your apartment, and as soon as the door closed, he hugged you tightly from behind "Please Y/N- I'm so sorry for everything that happened. It was entirely my fault and you were right, I was being an asshole for not listening to you. I'm sorry I made you feel that way, there's no excuse for what I did. But I promise I'll change, I- I'll never make the same mistakes again! I know this might be a lot but I hope you can give me another chance-" You burst out giggling "Satoru! Wait I- haha! stop! I'm ticklish!!" Gojo was so confused as to why you were laughing but then he realized he was subconsciously rubbing your sides, something that was so natural to the both of you "Oh! I'm sorry baby."

You and Gojo had a long serious talk that day, about how you felt, how sorry he was, and how he'll change for the better. It was a day full of crying, and to your surprise Gojo was crying even more than you, that you had to wipe his tears while he rests his head on your chest like a little puppy. Gojo made it a point for you to tell him everything, all the frustrations you had, and things you wished were better. You both established that communication is key.

"Are we okay now baby?"

"Hmmm.. I don't know... I think you're missing something though.."

"Okay just tell me babe, hm?"

"I didn't get any kisses"

The moment you said that Gojo's heart felt very warm, he felt home. He immediately tackled you on the couch with kisses on your cheek, neck, and lips. Your apartment was now filled with giggles, chuckles, and relief. You both had pizza delivered to your apartment, and after eating dinner you both are cuddled in your bed, him spooning you, arms wrapped around your waist, while you and him watch random tiktok videos on your phone. It was comforting. A few giggles here and there. Your back was against his chest and you shifted a bit to get more comfortable, unbeknownst to you, you rubbed your ass snug against his length.

Gojo noticed this, and now he was super aware of his surroundings. You smelled so good, just freshly out of the shower, you were so soft his hands began rubbing at your sides, up and down getting dangerously low to your ass, and high to your breast. He was getting hard, and subconsciously humping our ass. "I can feel you, you know" Gojo was taken aback, maybe this was too soon after your fight. "Oh sorry I-" He was cut off by your lips on his. He licked your bottom lip, asking for access in which you opened your mouth and deepened the kiss. His tongue caressed yours, as spit began dripping on both of your chins. The make out was getting too heated, and although he was a bit embarrassed by being hard rock just by a kiss, he got on top of you as he started to dry hump you. You felt him smirk in the kiss as he felt your pussy getting wet. He pulled away from the kiss, a line of saliva connecting the both of you "My pretty baby getting so wet for me, so good for me" He removed your top and circled your nipple with his tongue before sucking it gently, rolling it in between his lips. You were mewling and Gojo felt your hips grinding, your pussy hungry for relief. He removed your shorts as he sucked on your nipple, and traced your slit with his fingers, teasing you "Fuck you're so wet baby, such a good slut for me, yeah?" You were now moaning, wanting more of his touch "Ye-Yes please baby I want-I need it please. I missed you."

"I missed you too" Gojo rubbed fast circles on your clit, making your back arch and mouth turn into an "o", Gojo swore you looked like a goddess. He went down on you getting a good look at your pussy, how wet- how delicious it was. He licked up and down your slit, making you squirm so much that he had to hold your legs around his head. He licked your throbbing clit before taking it in and sucking and gently nibbling on it, making you scream in pleasure "Ah-! B-baby, right there-fuck! Feels so good baby!" Gojo kept licking and sucking your clit as his finger entered you. You let out a gasp as you moan when he rubbed your sweet spot, adding another finger in to give you more pleasure. "Baby-'Toru wait! I-I'm close! ah- nng! I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm cummin-!" You arched your back as you spasmed, your orgasm bringing you to heaven as you grind, fucking yourself on his tongue. Gojo felt like cumming seeing you like that, he could tell that his boxer was stained with his precum. He hurriedly removed his clothes, wanting to enter you now. His big cock hit his tummy as he removed his pants, head red and twitching dripping with precum. You spread your legs wider for him, arms reaching out as you say "Daddy please fuck me."

Gojo lost control and had only one thought, he wanted to cum in you. You both gasp as he pushed his cock in your pussy, walls hugging his cock tightly. He thrusted, hips bucking wildly as you moan out in pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head while your tongue lolled out your mouth. Gojo felt his cock twitching at the sight of your fucked out face, though he wasn't any better. His eyes were also rolling at the back of his head at the feeling of your wet tight hole. The bed was creaking and hitting the wall with how fast his pace was, but neither of you care. All you and Gojo could think about was each other in this moment. He kissed and sucked on your neck as you grip on his hair, legs locking on his hips. The lewd wet sound of skin slapping made you both feel very hot. "A-aah! D-daddy I'm I- ahh-! Baby p-please" "I know baby I-fuck-I know baby. Cum for me, cum for daddy, yeah?" He slipped his hands between the two of you and began to rub your clit fast. This pushed you over the edge and you came hard. Walls tightening and throbbing, Gojo was close to cumming too as he felt his balls rise. " I'm cumming baby- Fuck! I'm cumming-take it- take it all!" He raised your legs close to your chest, bending you as his cock hardened even more and twitched, letting out ropes of cum in your pussy. Gojo groaned as he came, eyes rolled to the back of his head while he let out breathy moans. He lay on top of you as he finished, both of you trying to catch your breath. He kissed you on the lips as you played with his hair. You both knew you had to clean up, you were both covered in sweat and slick, and so was the bed sheets. But you were both too tired to move, you guys had tomorrow after all right? With this comforting thought you both drift off to sleep, with Gojo's arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles your neck, and your hand resting on his hand while the other on his back.

You both slept peacefully, feeling content, complete.

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed i wasn't really planning on doing this but i had fun lol

@porridgesblog @remniriis

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo imagine #x reader #smut #drabble fic #gojo drabbles #drabbles #jjk x you #jjk imagines

[moonstruckme]

What would the marauders be like with reader after spending their first night together ??? Obviously some wake up later than others so I wanna know how chaotic the morning after would be

Thanks for requesting gorgeous! Sorry for the very very long wait

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 907 words

You’re a light sleeper, and you feel the bed shift as James gets up. You roll over, squinting in the darkness to watch as he puts shorts on over the underwear he’d worn to sleep last night. He moves around on clumsy tiptoe, likely noisier than he’d like to be but not enough to wake the other two boys as he searches around on the floor for something. After a minute he finds it, bringing a discarded pair of socks to his nose for a quick sniff before he tugs them on. You make a soft, sleepy snickering sound, getting his attention. A smile touches James’ lips when he sees you awake, and he comes to squat by the bed so you can talk. 

“Hiya, lovie,” he whispers, breath fanning warm over your cheek. “Did I wake you?”

You hum a denial neither of you believe. “Time s’it?” 

“Early,” he admits, letting his eyes dip for a brief moment to where Sirius’ hand lies limp across your chest. He stands to pull on a sweatshirt. “I’m going to the gym, want me to bring you back a coffee or anything?”

You’re too tired to know what you want. “No thanks.”

“Alright.” James bends, pushing your hair up with his palm to kiss your forehead. “Back soon, lovely.” 

You roll over, turning your face into Sirius’ chest, and he makes a satisfied harrumphing sound, arm tightening around you in his sleep. He smells like clove and nighttime. 

The next time you wake, there’s at least light coming into the room.

“Sorry,” Remus says softly, leaning over Sirius to adjust the covers over you both. “You looked cold.” 

“That’s—” A yawn takes you, and you arch your back, stretching in Sirius’ hold. “That’s okay. Morning.”

Remus smiles, fondness etched into the creases around his eyes. “Good morning, darling. Sleep alright?” 

You hum, moving to sit up, and Sirius lets out a petulant whine. 

“Stop trying to steal her, Moony,” he gripes. “S’too early.” 

“Oh, come on.” Remus slips into a coaxing tone as he diverts his attention to your boyfriend, bending to nose at the dark hair strewn across his face. “Why don’t we all get up, and I’ll make batter for pancakes.”

Sirius goes quiet, in reluctance or consideration you can’t tell, and you look at Remus curiously. “Just the batter?” 

He shrugs. “Prongs likes to flip them.” 

Sirius makes a complainy groaning sound, burying his face in your chest. Remus laughs, fingers combing through his fine hair. “Be nice, Pads, Y/N’s hungry. Aren’t you, love?”

“I am a little,” you admit, stomach gurgling in perfect time. Sirius picks his head up, eyebrows stitched together. 

“You should’a said,” he croaks, shuffling into an upright position. “Alright, let’s go.” 

You pause to throw on a sweatshirt before following the boys into the main part of their flat, curling up on the couch with Sirius while Remus whisks together the ingredients for pancakes. The coffee machine’s already running, the rumbling sounds of the percolator perking Sirius up before the aroma even hits you. 

“Do you like chocolate chips or blueberries or anything in yours, sweetheart?” Remus asks, just as the door opens and James comes in. He shrugs off his sweatshirt while kicking off his shoes, and you and you and Sirius both openly oggle his sweat-slicked torso, the muscles in his abdomen shifting as he turns toward the kitchen, sniffing the air suspiciously. 

“Are you making pancakes?” he accuses. “Without me?”

“Just the batter,” Remus defends himself, passing the bowl over for James’ inspection. 

He nods in satisfaction, shouldering the taller boy aside and taking over. Remus holds his hands up, shaking his head as he goes. He begins taking mugs out of the cabinet instead.

“Who’s having coffee?” he asks. 

“Me,” Sirius says emphatically, letting his head loll off the back of the couch dramatically. 

“I’ll take some, thanks,” you agree, smiling as Remus begins dumping cream and sugar into yours. 

“Oi,” James protests, something dangerously close to a frown on his pretty lips. Remus nudges past him. “I offered to grab you some earlier and you said you didn’t want any.” 

Remus plants a smug kiss on the top of your head as he sets the mug down in front of you. “Guess she only wanted my coffee. Sorry, Prongs.” 

“You do make it the best,” Sirius agrees, eyes closing blissfully as he takes his first sip. 

“I wasn’t trying to reject your coffee,” you promise James. “It’s just that you left when it was too early to think.” 

“Sure,” he drawls, flipping a pancake without breaking eye contact. “Last time I offer you anything.” After a second, he winks to let you know he’s only joking. 

You sip your coffee and take a second to process your surroundings. There’s a shirtless boy making you pancakes in the kitchen, another who’s just made your coffee better than you’ve ever made it yourself, and a third who’s pressed himself to you shoulder-to-hip and is watching you interestedly.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sirius asks.

You lower your voice to a whisper, and he smirks as you put your mouth to his ear. “Is it always like this?”

His laugh comes loud and sharp, hastily covered by a cough. Remus gives the two of you an odd look, but decides not to inquire. 

“Yeah,” he whispers back, conspiratorial. “Every day, sweetheart.” 

You think you’ll be staying over more often.

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders one shot #poly!marauders oneshot #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #the marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[javiscigarette]

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

my masterlist

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.  But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings. 

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock. 

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.  

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal. 

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky. 

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands. 

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain. 

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better. 

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask. 

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him. 

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him. 

So you do. 

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision. 

Fucking pathetic. Both of you. 

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly. 

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house. 

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours. 

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?” 

You ask even though you don’t really want to know. 

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face. 

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know. 

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to. 

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap. 

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again. 

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that. 

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits. 

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you. 

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. 

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms. 

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight. 

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale. 

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked. 

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand. 

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of. 

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy. 

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat. 

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger. 

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can. 

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth. 

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes. 

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.  

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach. 

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand. 

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there. 

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down. 

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again. 

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out. 

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. 

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is. 

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painfull reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does. 

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic. 

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be. 

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's. 

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

#writing challenge 2.0 #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters

[gloxk]

Whats the best kind of sex to have with aot men?

(Eren armin and connie?)

Best kind of sex with AOT men!

(Connie, Armin, Eren)

A/n: AHHH! Hey guys! It’s been almost a week :) sorry for my small hiatus, I am back! Have yall seen good girls? Well, if you have Connie is slightly inspired by Rio🤤. Ugh omg he’s so fine.

Warning: smut (ovi), Plug eren and Plug connie. perv!armin…

♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡

Connie!; Bratty sex,

Of course connie pissed you off once again.

It was like he woke up every day and decided to be trifling.

“Fuck you. I’m done.” He was so irritating you genuinely couldn’t even have a full conversation without getting mad. “You don’t mean that ma.” of course you didn’t.

But hell you were committed to the act.

Blocking him on everything, even blocking his friends.

That obviously didn’t stop him from calling you on a text-now number. He even went as far as emailing you. (You don’t even check that shit.)

All day your phone rung and rung —never ending ear splitting ringing noise. Finally you answered hoping he would end his antics.

“Ma, I got a 3.5 just fa you. Lemme make it up to you.” His words persuaded you; unfortunately you gave in.

You nearly ran too the door after hearing a car pull into your driveway. ‘Act mad, Act mad, Act mad’ you thought to yourself as you opened the door.

There Connie stood with a bouquet of money with a small baggie in his hand. His face turned in a sly smile. “Can I come in?”

You started yelling as he closed the door behind him, although you were acting mad your feelings were real.

Connie started rolling the backwood for you while you laid in to him. He never interrupted you, letting you express your feelings.

He kept eye contact while his tongue glided over the dried leaves. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted a reaction—and he got one.

You sat beside him on the couch taking the blunt from his finger-tips. “You done with that attitude?” It was an act and he knew it was, but you didn’t care. “Nah.”

Connie felt so bad for his baby. He made you have this attitude? Of course he had to get rid of it for you!

Your legs were thrown over his shoulder, as he thrusted in to you “Cmon, I thought you knew better. You know attitudes don’t work wimme.” he teased you, you both knew the act wasn’t going to last long. So it was pathetic trying to keep it up.

Armin!; Sleep sex,

Armin was a night owl, always up and doing something productive. Reading, cleaning, taking pictures of you while you sleep-

Armin was confused why his key no longer worked, he was only gone for a few days yet the locks were changed.

He prevailed, as he always would. He was a little upset with you but nonetheless he was willing to talk it out.

His eyes lingered over your sleeping body for longer than they should. He kept his eye on your lace underwear, wondering if he could slip them off without waking you.

Armin tried to control himself and respect your sleeping body, but you were too beautiful to resist .

He kissed your neck trailing lower and lower…until he reached your underwear. He happily slipped them off and took all of your beauty in.

He started in awe, watching the way you face twitched as he slowly fucked himself into you.

Your soft moans got to him; he ran his finger over your nipple twisting and tugging at them.

You slowly opened your eye lids trying to grasp the sight infront of you. But you couldn’t see, something was covering your eyes. You slightly panicked slinging your head side to side.

“I’m right here baby.” Armin kissed your cheek trying to reassure you that you were okay. But it only made you tense up more feeling him inside of you.

“I changed the locks! How did you get in?” He placed his thumb over your lips, dragging them down slowly. “Why did you change the locks?” As if he didn’t know why…

“Because you’re fucking crazy! Because this is the shit you do!” you cried, but unfortunately your tears only turned him on more.

Eren!; jealous sex,

Eren wasn’t exactly happy to see you with a different guy. “You look pathetic standing next to him instead of me.” Eren thought to himself.

When Eren told you to go find someone better than him; he was just joking. He didn’t think you’d actually move on. What happened to be locked in? What happened to being forever?

Maybe you got tired of fighting and arguing with him every single night. But how could you? The make-up sex was amazing.

It pissed him off that you didn’t even notice he was there. Did you not see the fully blackened Hellcat parked outside? I mean who else would it belong too? Did your new “boyfriend” have a better car than him? No better yet, did he make you cum faster then Eren?

Eren and Connie found themselves on the couch together discussing your new man. “That’s wild, she fuckin with a different plug bro.” Connie kept instigating the whole thing. “If that was my girl, i would’ve let my gun speak for me.” & “Me personally I wouldn’t take that disrespect, you feel me?”.

Eren couldn’t possibly take that disrespect at all; of course he had to handle it. He handled it the best way he knew how.

Your phone rung on the bed side table; you watched as it vibrated against the stained wood. Unfortunately your hands were pinned against your back—so you couldn’t see who it was.

”He’s still calling you? It would be wrong for us to ignore your man.” Eren answered the face time call; he laughed at your boyfriends concerned voice. “Yeah, she ight. Wanna see?

He flipped the camera over to you, as requested. Your back was arched giving Eren the perfect view of your pussy. He made sure to give your boyfriend something to think about before he hung up.

“Sorry ma, he wanted to see his girlfriend!” Eren laughed, his tone was oozing with sarcasm. You hated that he always knew he could come back into your life regardless if you moved on. Because nobody could ever replace him.

♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡

I luv request like these <3

#eyena writes♡ #eren yeager #plug eren #connie springer #plug connie #armin smut #connie smut #eren smut #eren x black reader #connie x black reader #armin x black reader #eren x y/n #armin x y/n #connie x y/n #aot smut #eren jeager smut #eren x black fem!reader #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #eren x you #armin x you #armin arlert #connie x black y/n #connie x you #connie aot

[bouncybongfairy]

Late Night At Fazbear's

Mike Schmidt x Fem Reader

Summary: Mike is an ex-coworker with whom you have a situationship with. Knowing about your interest in arcade games, he invites you to visit him at an abandoned pizzeria to check it out. Things get a little heated before you get a chance to look around.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were working on some last-minute statistics homework after you got out of the shower. It was a Friday night and even though you got an offer from your friend group to go out, you decided to stay home. Going to house party after party was getting annoying. Half the time, the only people there were drunk frat boys trying to get some before their whiskey dick kicked in. Being a wing girl for your friends was fun the first thirty times but now you’d rather stay home. Things in your life seemed so stagnant, it was like all you did was school, work, then bumming it at home. Like you were some uncharismatic dad in a sitcom. Suddenly your phone goes off, which breaks you out of the trance you were in. When you answered, you immediately recognized the voice to be Mike from the pizza place you guys used to work at together. You thought it was kinda weird that he was calling you so randomly but you did talk often when working together. For reasons that still are unclear, you answered.

“Hey! Sorry I know this is- it’s kinda random but can you talk for a second?” his voice spoke over the receiver. 

“Yeah, I’m just hanging out at home. What’s up?” you asked, now standing up to pace around your room. 

“Oh cool cool, so kinda weird to explain but bear with me here. Remember how you were super obsessed with the old arcade games we had in the back of the pizza shop? Anyway, I got this new job at an old pizzeria and there’s a bunch of old games and animatronics. I was thinking while I’m working the graveyard shift you could maybe swing by for an hour or two and check it out with me?” His voice was so sweet and soft-spoken that you couldn’t help but blush over the phone. You coiled your finger around the wire of the landline. 

“Umm, yeah that sounds kinda fun actually, when are you there till?” you asked with a hint of a smirk on your face. 

“My shift starts at 12 am and ends at 6 am, no pressure. Obviously, I’ll be here all night,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll call you right before I leave okay?” you asked softly. 

“Yeah that’s perfect, I’ll see you then,” he said. 

You put the phone back on its hook and check the time on your alarm clock. To your dismay, you’d been studying for two hours and it was 10:50. Luckily you’d already showered but that wasn’t the problem. Internally, you were going through a moral dilemma. Part of you was telling yourself that he was just a coworker that got attached and another part, wanted to do your hair and make-up and hair before going. Making sure that every strand sat just right as if he’d somehow notice. To make sure your eyelashes have the exact amount of mascara they need to be long but not clumpy. If you thought all these things, wouldn’t that mean you do care what he thinks of you? Although you were bubbling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you managed to finish getting ready. You start packing your bag, pacing around looking for all your items. Car keys, pocket knife, compact, body spray, and your wallet. As you went to take the cartoon of cigarettes from your bedside table, you thought about taking the joint that was rolled. Sitting on your knees in front of your nightstand, you start dialing Mike’s number to let him know you are on the way. After shoving all the contents into the bag, you make your way outside and start your Mazda. You were sitting in the car for a few moments, thinking about if you were really going. 

Once you pulled into the parking lot, thoughts of regret started to bubble in your brain. You would have turned around if it weren’t for Mike’s car being in the parking lot. You checked the time on the radio and saw that it was only 12:57, was it weird that you were there so early? You were slightly worried that it would look desperate. Deciding to let that unneeded anxiety go, you get out of the car and lock your doors. Take a moment to take in the outside of the building. It appeared to be severely unkempt, brown vines covered most of the building. Due to the unsettling vibe of the building, the bear that was supposed to look cute and inviting was the exact opposite. Creating an ominous feeling as it waved at you. The walls were mostly a dull yellow color with red and blue accents and a black and white checkered line across the middle. One of the R’s of the sign was out, only adding to the sketchy feeling. You knocked on the big metal doors, wiping your knuckles off on your jeans. When Mike swung the door open, it made you jump and gasp. This caused him to break out into a fit of laughter. You playfully pushed his shoulder back. 

He took you back to the small room where he was monitoring all the security footage. The room was more creepy than the outside of the building. You sat down on the desk and Mike plopped down on his office chair. He was completely slouched back, wearing a gray thermal and a dark hooded sweater. His hair was more curly than shaggy and he had a five o’clock shadow. You set your purse on the desk and stood up, looking at the security cameras. One of the first things you noticed was the group of animatronics that were standing on the stage together. It was then that you realized what you really had gotten yourself into. 

He was surprised that you even came, yes you guys had become close while working together but he didn’t think it would lead to anything after. You were currently facing away from him, and he couldn’t help but admire you as you did so. He liked the fact that you were so well put together. Your jeans were fitted perfectly and your thong peaked out slightly from the top of your waistband. When you entered the small room, the entire space began to smell like apple-scented perfume. The white long sleeve was also very fitted, which brought attention to your figure. You turned around once you noticed it had been silent for a while. Grabbing your purse, you pull out the cartoon of cigs. Bringing the lighter to it and taking a drag to light it. After taking a couple of puffs you pass it to Mike who leans forward with a groan. As he took his hit, a piece of ash fell onto his pants. You leaned down and brushed it off his knee. 

“So much for cutting back right?” he asked rhetorically. 

“Oh yeah, I did switch to Spirits though. My grandma swore by these,” you said taking it back. 

“Do you smoke weed?” he asked, you laughed and started digging through your bag and pulled out the Altoids container, grabbing the joint. 

“Will you get in trouble? For like, smoking on the job?” you asked. 

“Oh no, this place is abandoned. There’s usually nobody in and out of here that would notice,” he said. 

You lit the joint and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke at his face playfully. He laughed as he took the joint into his hands and inhaled. You put the cig out on the glass ashtray that sat on the desk. He commented on how good the flower tasted which made you relieved knowing he didn’t think it was reggie. You guys started talking about memories of working together. You guys would always take smoke breaks together and go to lunch every once and a while. Mike actually listened to what you had to say. He wasn’t the type of person that constantly changed to a conversation with himself. A lot of guys you spoke with were usually just telling you whatever you wanted to hear. Everything you had to say was so fascinating and impressive because they were just trying to butter you up. Mike would actually give his opinions on things and would tell you if he thought what you were saying was stupid. It was refreshing, to be honest, to have an interaction with the opposite sex without them drooling on you. You glanced over at Mike, maybe it was the weed but something felt different now. The way his legs were spread so widely made something in you feel hot. Eyes were now bloodshot, making the hazel color stand out even more than before. When he reached for the joint again, his hand brushed over yours. This made you make eye contact with him but then break away once the awkwardness set in. You looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you still with Jackson?” he asked.

“What? Oh yeah, we broke up a while ago,” you said, rubbing your arm.

“Well, what happened? I mean… If you don’t mind me asking,” he said. 

“No it’s- he just..” you took a deep inhale and spoke as the smoke poured out of your mouth, “he was really aggressive like, not just with his words. Not saying he beat me or anything but some things are meant to be more sweet and gentle. Sorry, I don’t know why I'm telling you this,” you said, passing it back. 

“No, I’m the one who brought it up. He always was a little misogynistic when we talked, I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. You were sitting on the desk, you kicked off your sandals and gently swung your legs back and forth. 

“Yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you sighed.

“For sure, you could do so much better than that,” he said. 

“Oh yeah? When you say better what do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning over to grab the joint. 

“Like if you said he was overly aggressive then you’ll find someone that is more gentle and shit,” he said, chuckling a little. 

“Oh, I see,” you moved your foot so that it was resting on his inner thigh before continuing, “Maybe you could show me?” you asked flirtatiously, he looked up and looked at you with a shocked expression. 

You used your leg to roll him closer to where you were sitting. He was now smirking, looking up at you. He let his hands slide up both your outer thighs. He pulled you off the desk so that you were now sitting in his lap facing him. You still had the joint in your hand, you took a hit before letting it sit on the ashtray. Your noses were touching and you were relieved to see that his breath was as fast as yours. Running your fingers through his hair, forcing his head to tilt back a little. You ran your bottom lip across his, arching your back and pressing your crotches together. He picked you up which caused you to wrap your legs around his waist. He set you on the desk again so that he was standing, hovering over you. You reached your hands down between your bodies, trying to unbuckle his belt. He stopped the kiss and chuckled at your eagerness and helped you. As you unzipped his jeans, one of his arms reached behind you and undid the clasps of your bra. The way he unhooked it with one hand made you throb. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans. He still had his jeans on but now that his pants were undone, you could feel how hard he was through his boxers. It was like the heat coming off his dick was making your stomach feel warm and tight. Before he buried his face into your chest, the look on his face was almost primal. Like it was taking everything he had to keep his hands off of you. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and sucked, biting down every once in a while. He reached into his backpack that was sitting on the desk and pulled out a condom. He was breathing heavily and a couple of drips of sweat were beading down his forehead. As you unzipped your jeans you looked over at the security camera and thought you saw one of the animatronics move from the stage. You pulled away for a second to show him,

“Mike, I know we smoked and everything. Oh my god, I know this is going to be crazy but I swear I just saw one of those… things moved,” you said as he trailed kisses up your shoulder. 

“This is my third day here and I think that all the time. It’s just your head playing tricks on us because of how creepy they look,” he said, then tearing the foil package open. 

“Are you sure because I could have..” you started but then were interrupted by Mike throwing the still-packaged condom onto the desk and pressing a button that made both doors close around you. He then got down on his knees and gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down. Instead of trying to pull your panties off of you, he simply pulls them to the side. Sticking his tongue in between your folds, massaging your clit. You had been in a dry spell since you broke up with Jackson and even then, he would never go down on you. The feeling of his mouth pressed against you was so euphoric, the moans that came out of your mouth were completely natural and unrehearsed. His pace was slow but he kept a steady rhythm which helped you chase to your climax. Instead of pulling at his hair, you cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows were furrowed but when he saw the look on your face, his eyes closed and he groaned loudly. He grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs back so that your feet were now on the desk. You grabbed two fistfuls of hair and threw your head back, moaning loudly. The pressure of the top of your thighs being pressed into your lower stomach. Crying out as you cum, the moans came out strangled. As you started to come down from the wave of ecstasy, you began to feel insecure about how fast he made you cum. 

“God you are so fucking hot, like seriously I almost came in my boxers,” he said standing up and grabbing the condom. His lips were parted and his mouth was still covered in saliva. Without wiping his mouth, he slid the rubber onto his shaft. 

“Sorry, do you want to keep going?” he asked, you didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you grabbed him by his shirt and smashed your mouth into his. He moaned the word ‘fuck’ into your mouth before continuing kissing. He broke away to look down and line himself up with your entrance. You were still wet and swollen from the previous orgasm, enabling him to slide in with you easily. He dropped his forehead down on your shoulder, mouth open and moaning as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you. You scooted your ass down so that you could fully be pressed against his hips. The desk was continuously banging up against the wall. Your foreheads were now pressed together groaning and growling into each other’s mouth. Everything suddenly came to a halt when everything went dark. You both jump and start looking for any articles of clothing that are nearby. The big metal doors on both sides of you slam open so loud, that your ears start ringing. 

“What the fuck just happened!” you exclaim.

“The battery died,” he realizes. 

“Well has that ever happened while you’re working?” you asked.

“No,” he stated. 

“Holy fuck, do you hear that fucking music?” you whispered. 

#fnaf fanfic #josh hutcherson fnaf #fnaf x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #mike schmidt x reader #michael schmidt #michael schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt

[love-belle]

i should hate u !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them using shady captions to communicate and the media and fans being confused.

or

for when you loved them too much. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

sequel - today and tomorrow and every day after that ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hello!!! i really hope u like this <3 i was initially gonna do daniel ricciardo one first but i already had 1/2 of this done so i just decided to post this :) thank u sm for reading <3 i love u

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

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f1news y/n y/l/n and max verstappen called it quits almost a month ago and it seems like they didn't end on good terms at all. the singer, at her london show last night, threw shade at her ex-boyfriend, saying and we quote, "the next song wouldn't have been possible without this one dude who inspired it obviously. so — here's 'i should hate you'. spoiler alert, i do. thank you!" the reason for the split is still unknown but sources who claim to be close to the pair said that 'it was bound to happen — with their different goals and plans for the future," seemingly referring to the talks that y/l/n wanted to get married and verstappen didn't. both of them have yet to comment on the situation. for more details, click on the link in our bio.

278 comments

username WOAH

username pause.

username ahahahahaha say what.

username oh my god 💀💀💀

username NOT HER CONFIRMING THAT I SHOULD HATE YOU IS ABT MAX

username no bc the way her voice cracked so many times in between the songs like girlie is angry AND hurt

username OH MY GOD

username i genuinely have no words

username omg the photos are NOT of her shading max. it's her laughing at a fan who yelled "you're the baddest bitch of all baddest bitches" at her

-> username YEAH LIKE SHE WAS SO CLOSE TO CRYING WHEN SHE SANG ISHY

username my delusional ass thinking they ended on good terms 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username nah it's so champagne problems and you're losing me kinda thing i can't handle this whatcthe fucj

username OH WHATCTHEBFUCJ

username me getting the big guns out to defend her AND max with my LIFE

username still processing their breakup give me a year to digest this information

username STOP WHAT THE FUCK

username my parents ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

username no bc she's genuinely such a sweet person so if she said this max must've done something 😭😭😭😭😭

-> username STOP NO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username can't believe she's saying this about a dude for whom she wrote "feels like" for like wow.

username I WAS AT THAT SHOW AND SHE LOOKED SO SAD AFTER SHE SAID THIS I FELT SO BAD

-> username SHE ALSO STARTED CRYING WHEN SHE FINISHED SINGING I MISS U IM SORRY AND ZARA (HER LEAD GUITARIST) HAD TO RUN AND CONSOLE HER

-> username AND SHE SAID THAT THE LAST MONTH HAS BEEN HARD ON HER AND SHE APOLOGIZED IF THE SHOW WASN'T AS GOOD AS THE OTHERS

-> username NAH MOTHER ATE AS ALWAYS

username y'all saying this but not the fact that she ALSO said "in another life we would've worked but im grateful for everything i had because for a moment you were mine"

-> username MY HEART JUST BROKE WHATCTHEBFUCK

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 799,155 others

maxverstappen1 i know i say that i am better now, spoiler alert, i am

8,926 comments

username the way my jaw dropped

username THE PICTURES

username GODDAMN

username someone take away y/n's phone before she hits back 💀💀💀

-> username the way i know that she would absolutely destroy him

username NOT THE PHOTOS OMG

danielricciardo spoiler alert, also a liar

-> maxverstappen1 you promised you wouldn't snitch

username he definitely cried while posting this idc

username max babe it's okay to admit that u miss ur wifey bc same 💔💔💔

-> username "wifey" girl he didn't even wanna marry her

-> username not another word.

username funny haha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 im crying 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 now get back with mom.

landonorris no you're not

-> maxverstappen1 i will block you

username lando and daniel exposing max 💀💀💀

username no bc he probably cries whenever he remembers that he fumbled a baddie like y/n

username "it's all better with you ❤️"

-> username i could've gone along with my day without seeing that just saying

-> username delete that RIGHT NOW before i start crying

username missing max simping for y/n like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

charles_leclerc i swear i can hear you crying from my hotel room

-> maxverstappen1 WE'RE NOT EVEN IN THE SAME HOTEL

username the way im SO sure he heard y/n saying that she hates him and that was the moment he gave up

-> username nah bc he was one of the "my girl's mad at me i hope i die" kinda guys

-> username wonder how he's surviving this tbh

username I CAN'T TAKE THIS SERIOUS IM SORRY THE POST IS JUST TOO FUNNY

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by selenagomez, carmenmmundt, dualipa and 2,246,826 others

yourusername i hate you lol

12,628 comments

username HELP

username she could only get this much in before her manager took away her phone ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*liked by yourusername*

username no bc girl had a lot to say she's just trying to keep it cute

*liked by yourusername*

username the way i know y/n FOUGHT for the right to post this caption

username this is MILD bc i know y/n can be ruthless 😭😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris "in love" alright.

-> yourusername IT'S FOR THE AESTHETIC

username mother and father are fighting i can't take this what tye fyxk

username 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username mother slays everyday just saying

username no bc if y/n ever said ihy to me i would give up just a thought

lilymhe pretty bitch

-> yourusername u sure that's not u?????

username i REALLY hope she's at the next gp

-> username no bc the way max and her meeting would definitely be more entertaining than the race itself

username NOT THE SONG LYRICS WHAT HAVE U PLANNED

-> username oh fuck that broke my heart what the fuck

username missing my man max in the comments section being a whipped bitch so bad ://////

carmenmmundt can't wait to see you darling 🤍

-> yourusername counting down the seconds omg i missed u!!!!!!

username y/n's manager has her on lockdown i can tell 💀💀💀

-> username with what she said at her last show i wouldn't be surprised

landonorris the post has reached the target and the target is currently eating ice cream while singing your songs

-> yourusername OH OKAY

-> yourusername good to know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username she's so pretty it's not fair wtf

username the caption omg

-> username it's SO mild compared to what i was expecting tbh 💀

username slay

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maxverstappen1 it's all better now

comments are disabled for this post

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 2,829,626 others

yourusername and i swear to god i'd kill you if i loved you a less hard

13,728 comments

username SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

username OH MY GOD

username IS THAT MAX WHATCTHEBFUCK

username NOT Y/N SOFT LAUNCHING HER EX BOYFRIEND

username GIRL 😭😭😭😭 get up

username this is INSANE

username MOTHER?????? WHAT IS THIS??????

danielricciardo the most stressful week of my life if we're being for real

-> yourusername u can send m*x the therapy bill

-> maxverstappen1 don't. i did not agree to that.

username HER SONG LYRICS OH MY GOD

username SHE WROTE THIS SONG FOR MAX 😭😭😭😭😭😭

username okay but like. are we SURE that's max?????

-> username i simply refuse to believe that it's someone else so yes. that IS in fact max.

username OKAYYYYYYY

username did NOT see this coming in a thousand years

username obviously VERY happy for them but y/n censoring max's name is so fucking hilarious like

-> yourusername babe it's m*x

-> username my bad ur absolutely right it's m*x

-> maxverstappen1 this is bullying

username DID HE PUT A RING ON IT WHATXTHEBFUCK

-> username NO BC THAT WOULD MAKE SM SENSE

username so i lost SLEEP over nothing????????

maxverstappen1 nice pants

-> yourusername thanks they would look better on ur floor

-> maxverstappen1 say less

-> username i think i just died whatcthebfuxk

-> username oh they're GOOD now

username imagine they just drop engagement photos out of the blue then what.

-> yourusername imagine lol

-> username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

username i just know y/n's eating up every moment of this chaos

-> maxverstappen1 demons thrive in chaos so

-> yourusername well! it was nice to reconcile for a couple days, goodbye now.

username im crying whayctrhbfcuk

landonorris mother father

-> yourusername child

-> maxverstappen1 no

-> username ah yes the four family members mother father child and no

username THE HEART THE EVERYTHING THEM

username they STILL don't follow eachother LMFAO

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen angst #max verstappen fluff

[delfiore]

—LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO.

pairing: leah williamson x reader

synopsis: a collection of private moments from a relationship between two public figures.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: IMPLICIT SMUT

a/n: this fic was proudly sponsored by hozier’s entire discography and my need to get a gf

SEQUEL: DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?

ONE. As It Was.

As it always was, London was raining when you came home.

The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the window panes reminded you of childhood, when it was autumn and smelled like the earth, and burying yourself in the piles of dry leaves in the backyard was like swimming in the clouds.

The rain reminded you of love and hot cocoa and scented candles.

The apartment was bathed in an orange hue from the three candles placed neatly on the coffee table when you dragged your suitcase inside. You could still hear the rain when you saw the way her eyes lit up and felt her heart pressed against yours.

You let yourself smile like it was the easiest thing in the world; because it was. You were home because you were with her.

TWO. Eat Your Young.

“Babe! What d’you want for dinner?” You heard her call from the living room.

You had just finished a chapter from your book. “Eh . . . pasta?”

“We already had pasta last night, love.”

“More pasta?” You smiled sheepishly, seeing the way she rolled her eyes but went along with your idea.

To her, there was never anything she could have the heart to deny you from, especially now that she had you back after having lent you to your work for so long.

You were supposed to be halfway across the world filming your new movie. It was only because of the writer’s strike, an unforeseen event, that gave you back to her. You had flown back from a shoot to be there for her in the days after she ruptured her ACL and when she had her surgery, but she found herself missing you the moment you left for work again.

Music played softly from the speaker on the kitchen counter as you chopped the cherry tomatoes while she boiled the noodles since that was the only thing you were okay with her doing without burning the entire building down.

“Remember to let the water boil first,” you said without turning around.

“I did,” she whined, her words trailing longer than necessary if she was telling the truth.

You stopped chopping and glanced behind your shoulder with a deadpan. “Leah.”

The water was clearly not bubbling, and yet the poor rigatoni noodles were already dunked in the pot.

“I’m sorry, I forgot again,” the girl smiled sheepishly.

You rolled your eyes at her and shook your head as she sidled up behind you with her arms around your waist.

You could never grow tired of being held in her arms like this, the warmth created by her chest pressing up against your back, and the anticipation of her timid kisses against your neck. The knife in your hand had long been set down in fear of injury by your trembling hands. Your footballer always liked to tease you until you had no choice but to submit.

“Am I forgiven?” Her voice was husky in your ear.

You were quick to regain your composure before you turned around. “Depends on if those noodles are edible or not.”

“Or we could just ditch dinner and eat each other instead.”

“Cute,” you grinned and pressed your lips against hers. You heard the slightest whimper when you gathered her bottom lip with your teeth and lightly tugged on it. “Needs some seasoning. Otherwise, good enough.”

“That’s what I meant, obviously.”

In the end, the pasta was long forgotten, and you had to order a pizza instead because, by the time she was done, you could barely walk to the other side of the kitchen.

THREE. I, Carrion (Icarian).

You had always been uncomfortable with silence. It was why you brought your speaker everywhere, why you preferred the city over the countryside, why you always felt the need to fill the silence in a room with conversation where there were other people. To you, silence meant a weapon, a way of waging war without actually doing it—the cowardice of dishonesty. So any chance you had to snuff out a glimpse of it, you did. Most of the time, though, the only war waged was the one you did to yourself in your mind.

But whenever you are with her, none of those threats present themselves. She has made silence enjoyable and something you wish you had learned to appreciate earlier, not fear it.

She had put on a movie for the both of you to watch on the couch. You usually felt the need to provide commentary were you with friends, but you were content with enjoying the movie in silence, occasionally looking over to your blonde lover to admire her on the other end of the couch. Your left leg was currently stretched across the cushions, as Leah gave you a foot massage whilst watching the movie.

Sometimes she didn’t feel real, like it was all a sick and twisted dream waiting to drop you on your head when you wake up. But it never did, because every time you reached for her, she was always there; even when you were timezones apart, she would find a way to be there for you in spirit.

“Babe, watch the movie. I like this one,” she spoke, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I feel like it should be me giving you a foot massage,” you said, lifting your chin towards her healing knee.

“Nah. You were the one sitting on a 12-hour flight to get back here,” she put pressure in the center of your foot.

With your arm on the backrest, you lifted it to brush the tips of your fingers against her hair, inching closer toward the skin on her neck. She noticed, of course, and sent a cheeky grin your way.

Your lover smiled and laughed like a child does. You loved it whenever she showed her teeth when she smiled, stripping down the front of the stoic and reliable captain of European champions that she had to be. You hated that she always lifted others up, yet put so much pressure on herself. You wished that she would be selfish sometimes, for when you weren’t there to pick up the pieces.

You never fared well, being away from her for long, which was why when she pulled you towards her and closed the distance between the two of you on the couch, you obliged.

“I love you,” she whispered after pressing a slow kiss on your lips.

With a lovesick sigh, you caressed her cheek and repeated her words. You loved the way her blue eyes narrowed watching you when you were so close to her face. The movie was running on the TV, but the only one you wanted to watch was her. You’d have to rewind it later.

FOUR. To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe).

There was a simplicity in all of it. This aspect of your life that, amidst the chaos and complications and unfairness in the world, was just that. Love. It was simple, it was sweet, it was yours.

It reminded you of a quote you read once: “He is half of my soul, as the poets say.” If anyone asked you why you loved her, you wouldn’t be able to answer. It would simply be that because she was she, and you were you.

Maybe Zeus never intended for soulmates to find each other. He was the one who split them up in the first place because he knew they would be impossible to part if the two halves merged.

She is half of your soul, as the poets say.

There was something so transcending about loving someone, and having it reciprocated. Every part of it; the good, the bad, the ugly. But you wanted all of it. You wanted to experience everything with her, because she was half of your soul, and it was the only way you could ever feel close to whole again before Zeus split you into two.

Your lover was panting quietly on top of you, her golden hair falling over her face like a lion’s mane. Her eyes fluttered close, her lips parted, her skin was hot to the touch. You watched, seeing the slightest shift in her face as she pulled your legs to her chest, the friction of her rocking slowly turning palpable as it fell into a rhythm. You would hold onto her, your fingers pressing down to create temporary craters into her skin, treading lightly, not wanting to disturb her pleasure, like a lone astronaut exploring a rogue planet.

You sighed contentedly hearing her quiet whines, an indication of an impending release. Your lover has never been loud, like she was saving everything she was feeling for you like everything would only be contained in these four walls, only for the both of you to share.

At some point, she had mumbled something and leaned down to flip you on your front. Even while her movements were restricted by her healing knee, she still liked to be as rough as she could, and you liked it, when she was always so sweet and gentle out of bed. It made you feel wanted, the way she pinned you to the bed and pressed herself against you, the way she intertwined your fingers and coaxed you through your high and kissed you until your lips were bruised and pulsating.

She made you feel wanted, even after you both had given each other euphoria, her frantic kisses to your skin always managed to elicit short giggles out of you. You would whisper in her ear after she had rolled over, the bedsheet warm and damp where she lay, holding her lean body close to yours, just like before Zeus had split you in half.

You are half of her soul, as the poets say, and unless a primordial god physically grabbed you by the waist and tore you away from your soulmate, you would stay here, one moment after another, until infinity. After that, you’d wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

FIVE. Wasteland, Baby!

Your lover was a light sleeper. You had discovered that within the first few months of dating. The way she stirred awake was not dissimilar to how a fussy baby wakes up at the slightest of noises. Usually, she would be quite grumpy as well.

Your circadian rhythm looked more like arrhythmia with the jet lag you were experiencing, in addition to the irregular hours you slept due to having to adjust for filming. Which was why you were in the living room, reading, so your tossing and turning wouldn’t disturb her sleep.

Once again, whenever you were with her, the silence didn’t bother you. Not when you were bathed in her scent wearing her sweater and the premise of her resting a room away from you.

It was around two in the morning when you heard the bedroom door open and close, and the sound of quiet feet shuffling on the floor.

“Hey, you. Why are you awake?” You asked gently, extending a hand out to her.

“I woke up to use the bathroom and you weren’t there,” her bottom lip jutted out like it always did when she wanted your attention.

You stifled a giggle and a coo at how adorable a 26-year-old woman could be. “I just thought I’d leave you be since I couldn’t sleep.”

Without prompting, your lover made herself comfortable on the couch and snuggled into your side. “You’re wearing my jumper.”

You continued reading with one hand while the other rested on her head, and stroking it lightly. “Yeah, found it lying around.” You placed a short kiss on her hair.

“I love this, Y/N,” she said, her words nearly unintelligible from mumbling into the fabric of your sweatshirt. “I made a Pinterest board the other day for our future home.”

“Ooh, tell me more.”

“I’d like to live in the countryside somewhere, with like a farm. It’ll be a cottage with vines all over the walls and everything, wooden kitchen set, a sunroom.”

“I can see that,” you said, “what about the city? You ever dreamed of living in New York? Paris? Hong Kong?”

“I’d feel like a fish out of water. I can barely stomach London. You’d been to all those places.”

You have, but nowhere felt like home unless you were with her. You could make a home in Antarctica if she was there with you.

“All of them are overrated anyway.” You hummed. “I like it wherever I’m with you.”

Her nose crinkled whenever you’d say cheesy stuff like that. You never knew how much those words made her heart skip a beat, as she buried her face in your neck.

“I realized as I said it,” you scrunched your face too.

“Working with Wes Anderson made you a sap now, hasn’t it?” She quite enjoyed this side of you. “It’s fine. I like it.”

Sleep found her again shortly after. In the morning, she woke with a sore back, but her heart was full, realizing she had been tangled in your arms all night.

SIX. Swan Upon Leda.

To know pain; the kind of pain that cuts through your flesh and leaves you bleeding dry. A stinging sensation that soon turns into agonizing hellfire and the knowing that there are several more spirals of hell still waiting to make you bleed. It was to witness someone who was half of your soul be in pain whilst you were powerless against the evil, and all you could do was pray that it would spare your soulmate and take you instead.

Your hand clasped around hers like iron chains, rubbing her back soothingly, as if the warmth from the back might manifest in her front and assuage the pain. She lay on the bathroom floor, her breathing slow and hard, like she was grappling with the evil that, by the looks of it, was winning. Clutching the heating pad to her stomach, her only lifeline, she curled away from you and into herself even further.

“Love, let’s move you to the bedroom where you can lay comfortably, yeah?” You asked gently.

She huffed and grunted. “Can’t move. Hurts.”

Your lover, your Lioness, Queen of Europe, falling apart by an invisible evil, immobilizing her like a wounded deer. The coldness of the tiles couldn’t have helped, but she couldn’t move.

Spare her. Give me the pain instead.

You leaned down, lowering yourself slowly to the cold, until you were flat on the floor too. Gently, you pulled her to turn to face you. Your Lioness was clenching her jaw, a vein splitting her forehead from how hard she was trying to pretend it didn’t bother her.

And it stung even more when she let out a choked sob.

Then she said with a trembling sigh, “Don’t want you to see me like this.”

Her face was stained with streaks of silent tears, a sign of the raging battle she had to endure for years finally getting the best of her. But the evil had never seen the best of her; she reserved it all for you.

“Oh, baby.” Your hand came up to cup her face, the frame that held the entire world.

It didn’t matter that your lover was curled up on the bathroom floor, she was still your bravest girl, your strongest soldier, and your fiercest Lioness.

“You’re the strongest person I know,” you said sincerely, “and I’m not leaving you, not now, not ever.”

Your lover beamed tearfully like sunshine in the rain and clung herself onto you.

Young love was the thing of fairytales. You would never claim to have it all figured out, but if what you had wasn’t love, you didn’t know the half of anything.

SEVEN. Like Real People Do.

As serious as your lover made herself out to be, she was the biggest goof on the planet the moment a drop of alcohol entered her system. Never acted out of line, never said anything that she’d regret in the morning, just the rowdiest thing that considered waving her arms in the air while wobbling back and forth dancing. It made a spectacular scene to watch, especially whenever she was with her best friend, whom you had to thank for bringing her into your life.

Even the people in her life who knew her as responsible and trustworthy would be concerned at this entirely different side to her, to which you only waved them off with a laugh, and said, “She’ll be fine.”

She would always be because she always had you to take care of her.

“Water, babe?” She knew to listen to you and chugged the whole thing in one breath.

“Come dance with me?” She offered when the DJ slowed the music.

She looked too good not to, so you took her hand and followed her to the dance floor. Once there, she wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed a kiss on your forehead. “Come closer. You smell so good.”

You laughed. “Creep.”

“This is our song,” she chuckled.

The familiar melody elicited distant memories of shy ‘hello’s and stolen glances, her best friend pushing her towards you, and her keeping your number on the phone all night until she finally gathered the courage to press on it.

It was the first song on every playlist you sent each other, like a stamp, a greeting, a confession.

It was the song that played when it was just the two of you alone after she became her country’s pride and joy.

“I remember,” you said, brushing a strand of her hair back from her blue eyes, dazed ones that looked at you like you held the world in your hands. “I thought you’d be more confident, just from seeing how you are on the pitch. It was very endearing.”

“I was nervous, okay?” She groaned, laughing quietly. “I didn’t wanna embarrass myself in front of a movie star.”

“I’m glad you asked me to dance, even though—”

“I’m shit at dancing, yeah.”

You giggled, and bumped her nose. “I feel so lucky to have you in my life.”

She was swaying you back and forth, humming to the song gently, a far cry from the first time you had asked her to dance, and she panicked and said her legs were made for football and not dancing.

“I’m still shit at dancing,” she chuckled.

“I don’t care,” you shook your head. “I still love you.”

“Even if I’ve got two left feet?”

“Mmhm.”

She grinned and kissed you, inhaling deeply. “I can feel Alex taking pictures of us—Yup, her phone is out and it’s pointing at us. Very subtle, Alex.” You laughed when you turned around to see your lover already flipping the bird at her best friend.

“We do have her to thank for getting us to meet.”

“That’s ‘cause she beat me to it first. I would have found a way to you.”

“You didn’t even know me then, babe.”

“Yeah, but I’d still find my way to you.” She was giggling because you had pulled a face. “What? It’s true.”

Leah loved deeply, and boldly. You made her feel special like she was the only person in the world. You also made her feel ordinary, like she wasn’t the face of a nation and only any other stranger walking down the street. Inside the little bubble you were both in, you were just Leah and Y/N, two people in love.

The song had come to its end, and yet she still hadn’t let you go. Three little words sat on the tip of both of your tongues. You pressed a kiss to her lips first. She kissed you back, on the lips, then on the neck softly.

I love you.

I love you.

What you didn’t know was that she planned to make you a promise of forever, with a ring hidden in a drawer waiting at home.

Simple. Sweet. Ours.

EIGHT. De Selby (Part 1).

“Lee?”

“Hm?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Mate, honestly like—“

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #england wnt #lionesses #leah williamson x you #leah williamson angst #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso #fifa wwc 2023 #engwnt #woso imagine

[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's number 1 Fan. Part 2

Tim wakes a few days later, half submerged in liquid and hooked to various machines. He is in a tub shaped like a bed, obviously meant to sleep in. Around him is what he hopes is a hospital room with medical tools scattered about and soft blue paint that turns to the night sky the higher it goes on the wall.

On the ceiling are paintings of various constellations. It's rather beautiful.

Tim also notices he feels no pain. None. Not even the aches of his bones after years of abuse while fighting crime. He thinks that's a bit strange since the last thing he could clearly remember was barely escaping Ra's al Ghul, losing his spleen, and gaining more wounds from angry assassins on his way out.

He had been flying half-blind, blinking in and out of awareness. He thinks at one point, Cassie had attempted to call him, and he may have answered, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he told her.

He did remember what she said in response. She sounded so desperate as she begged over the S-Batplane speakers. "Please, Tim, you're not well. Let us help you. Just tell me where you are."

Too bad for her, since the S in S-Batplane stand for Secert because Tim had built that one on his own in Secert. There was no way she or any of the hero community could track him in it since they had no idea it existed until Tim had taken it and his supplies on his solo mission to save Bruce.

Tim will admit that he is happy they noticed he went missing- even if it was three months too late. Not that it mattered much. The rest of the Bats wanted nothing to do with him. The world only saw him as a young easy wallet as a shiny new CEO. And his friends were all dead or convinced he was insane by Dick.

Tim didn't have anyone to notice he was gone anymore. But Bruce needed him to push through the ache and get him home.

As the Robin who Bruce trained to put the mission first no matter the cost, the one that came after Jason's death so, Bruce stopped allowing himself to think of Robin as a son and more along the lines of a soldier; he quickly shut down the crying child that wailed for someone to believe him, to support him.

Sometimes it felt like Tim was still waiting by the door of Drake Manor, waiting for someone to come and care for him, to stay for him.

The door to his room opens, snapping Tim back to the present. He automatically stiffens, expecting more of the League of Assassins. He can't remember much, but he guessed he was captured by the fact he was sitting in a green glowing water.

He was not, however, expecting a Yeti to walk in, reading a clipboard.

The Yeti looks up, bearing its teeth at Tim when he notices him awake. It takes a moment to realize the action is supposed to be a smile. "Great One's Honored Guest, I am so glad you have awakened. I am FrostBite, your doctor for the remainder of your recovery."

Okay. Ra's has Yetis at his disposal.

He was the only person that Tim knew as the "Great One." Usually, his most loyal operatives too, which means he was deep within Ra's territory.

FrostBrite pauses for a response, but when Tim remains silent, he holds up his board. "It seems to me that most of your wounds have healed. The only problem is that your spleen could not be salvaged due to the damage."

Tim fights to keep the despair off his face. He figured that was the case, seeing as Ras's had it in a jar, but he had hoped.

"...I understand this may be a difficult adjustment. You will always have to be careful when being ill. Even a simple cold could be disastrous." Frostbite steps close, taping one giant claw on the tub's edge. "The Great One has ordered we keep consistent Ecoplasm Baths at the ready for the remainder of your natural life."

Fuck. The Yeti is saying Ra will never let him leave again. It's a threat disguised as a offer of help.

Tim glares down at his hands. They lay within Lazarus' water, gently healing his small scars. This must be some of the purest Lazarus he's ever seen. It must be Ra's own special blend.

The only reason he is wasting it on Tim is that Ra's wants an heir from him. Or for him to become the Heir. He doesn't know, which makes him feel worse but he does know what lust looks like.

It's one that Ra's has aimed at him for too long.

He may as well get this over with. Learn as much as he can. Plan an escape. The best way to do all that is to simply ask.

"When is the wedding?"

Frostbite freezes. "I beg your pardon? Whos wedding?"

"Th Great One and mine" because the madman would never allow a bastard to inherit his empire.

"You and the Great One....are paramours?" Frostbite sounds awe. Shoot his medic doesn't know anything. The Yeti is likely low ranking.

Tim looks away, and the giant white creature jerks into action. "I apologize for not treating the Great One's beloved properly. I shall have servants bring up a meal while you soak. And the finest robe we have! Sweets and messages....offers of gold?....humans always like gold."

He waits until the Yeti leaves, mumbles of giving him the royal treatment echoing in his wake. Tim sighs, sinking into the water. He knows he is being watched as that's what he would do, so for now he needs to stay put and heal.

He's never going to get Bruce back if he acts too rashly without knowing where he is and what else Ra has under his control. Yetis were no easy feat to beat on his own. He like to avoid....a vampire or something too.

Half an hour later, FrostBite returns with the promised meal and change of clothes. Smaller Yetis help him dress in threads of the finest silks. They feel like heaven on his sensitive skin. Tim feels soft and warm all over, pampered beyond belief.

It's been so long since he just had a moment to rest.

He asks for a walk which he is only permitted after Frostbites clears him. It's while he is wandering that he realizes he is in some winter castle. Everywhere he looks, there is ice, snow, and yetis.

He notices all the guards and makes mental maps of possible weak spots. He wonders why he's not freezing despite only being in a thin silk robe. A form of magic?

A few yetis- servants he can tell by their mannerisms- bow as he wanders about. He can't tell where he is based on the sun or the environment. It's....somehow different.

"That's him?" A young female voice asks. He turns his head slightly to catch the speaker in his provisional vision. It's one of the smaller Yetis....he assumes she's a child? Hard to tell when she still towers over him. "The Great One's future spouse?"

"Yes, I heard King Frostbite, himself, tell the Head Butler"

"He's weak," another Yeti says with disapproval. He sounds male but young as well. Not even a teenager. "He does not even have a core."

"He is a human." A much older voice replies. She sounds like Tim's age based on vocal cords. "Humans are not meant to have cores. Despite this he is a formidable fighter. He has to be to have attracted the Great One's eye."

"Maybe not. I heard humans enjoy being cared for like children. They even call partners things like Mommy and Daddy."

"Why?" The boy Yeti sounds horrified.

"Apparently it's seen as attractive"

"That's disgusting."

Tim turns a corner cutting off the conversation as the Yetis snap to attention. They bow low at the waist as he walks by.

He nods at them, which seems to startle a lot of them. Not that he's surprised. The AL Ghuls likely treated them like decorations and never fully acknowledged them.

Tim barely hears the young boy gasp. "He's beautiful."

"That's likely why the Great One is so bestowed."

Tim sighs walking back to his room with a escape plan half formed.

Elsewhere, the rumor mill in the Ghost Zone is running over time as news of King Phantom's human husband-to-be is spread far and wide. Leaders of the Ghost Zone quickly prepare for a ball that will likely be called to celebrate the union.

They have gifts gathered, each wanting to gain favor with the King. The Far Frozen gets overwhelming requests to visit the future Consort, but seeing as King Phantom had to return to the human world, thus leaving his fiancé in their care, they reject all. They do not want the boy to be overwhelmed or caught unawares if he is not tried in any form of politics.

It would not allow him to become a threat to the King's authority's pawn.

This led to even more rumors starting.

By the time they reached John Constine- the only human who has any form of contact with the Realms- the word is that King Phantom's human was currently carrying their child, wanting to marry before the baby was born, and that he was running from a group of humans known as "The Bats."

He was as beautiful as the King Phantom was powerful- which meant he was utterly breathtaking for a human- and that King Phantom was currently in the human world hunting down those who threaten his family.

Across the dimension plane, Danny is blissfully unaware of the misunderstanding as he is busy filling out college scholarship applications. He has only one more year before he graduates, but he would like to go somewhere away from Amity Park.

The Wayne Scholarship is a long and lengthy process, but it will be worth it. A full ride with board and meals? Yes, the housing will be in Gotham but it's a small price to pay.

He wonders if his number one fan has awakened. Frostbite would have contacted him if his guest had escaped the coma.

Tim Drake had been asleep for nearly a week, only kept healthy due to Danny bathing him in his Protective Core ectoplasm and the Yeti's multi-species medical knowledge. As it were, Tim appeared to only be taking a small nap, none of the adverse effects of long slumber appearing on his thin body, but Danny was getting worried.

At this point, he didn't even care how Tim knew his secret. He just wanted him to be alright.

A flash of green light causes Danny to spring away from his laptop, body falling into a natural fighter's stance only to blink at the giant gift wrap present laying on his bed. Cautiously he inspects the gift finding it from Princess Dora.

"May your love lead the Realms into a wonderous future, and may your union bear many children." He reads the small note she had attracted to her gift "What children?"

Pulling open the gift, he stares at two sets of King robes decorated with rubies shaped into snowflakes. More miniature robes and a few booties surround the pair, obviously meant as a family gift.

Tuck to the side of the box is a long and deadly-looking sword. It's pitch black, with a scull as a handle. Dora had tired a scroll to its blade, where she had written My armies are ready to yield to you. You need only to swing this sword, and they shall come to your aid. The Bats will not harm your treasure.

What in the world?

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Phantom's number 1 fan #Tim unleased a love story onto the beings of enterity #Danny is super confused #Somewhere John is freaking out about a possible war #Tim does not remember stopping at Danny's

[writingsonsaturn]

Tim having a younger girlfriend who gets princess treatment from him, she very obviously in love with Tim, and nobody at the station believes he has a girlfriend, so one day she shows up and work and everyone gets to see and meet her and see just how much she has Tim wrapped around her finger <3

Sorry if it doesn't make sense

puppy love - tim bradford

{ masterlist }

🪐: hopefully this lives up to what you were thinking!! i did my best to capture all the main elements that you wanted in the story <33

word count: 1039

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Tim was notorious for being a hardass, his rough demeanor and strict ways of teaching made him seem like a total douchebag, for lack of a better word.

However, for you, he was a ball of sunshine, just don't let anyone else know that. 

Tim was awoken to the deafening sound of his alarm clock, he looked over at the red numbers, the clock reading “6:00am”, he sighed and reached a hand over to turn the blaring sound off. He turned over at the movement of your sleeping body, his hand now brushing through your hair with a small smile on his lips, waking up wasn't so bad when he got to see your face every morning.

You woke up gently at the new warmth that was on your head, “do you have to leave today?” you whispered with annoyance, one eye looking at him while the other stayed shut hoping to retain some sleep “unfortunately i do, baby, but i'll be home in time for our date” he responds, leaning over and kissing your forehead. 

He gets out of bed and heads for the closet putting on his uniform, once he’s done getting ready he reaches for his duty belt and gun that he keeps in his nightstand. Finally he leans over to give you one last kiss goodbye, “i love you, i’ll text you on break” you felt his lips move, “i love you too, be safe and come home to me” you respond as he walks out of the room gently shutting the door.

You shortly go back to sleep to get extra shuteye before having to go to your 9:00 am psychology class.

===

Tim made it to work early, going into the locker room and putting his duffle bag full of extra clothes and little snacks that you had snuck in there “just in case”, once he left the locker room he made his way to the debriefing room. “Hey Tim, you still owe me the 13 bucks for that burrito i bought you last week” Angela points out, while walking in behind him “ah right” he groans pulling out his wallet simply forgetting the little photo he kept of you in there.

The photo fell on the ground as Tim pulled out the cash, Angela reached down holding the picture “who is that?” she wonders while looking at the piece of paper “my girlfriend” he responds while holding out the $13, “you? You have a girlfriend?” she jokes “yeah, and i'm a millionaire” she finished sarcastically and walked away to sit down in her seat.

Tim just silently rolled his eyes and put your photo back in the safety of his wallet, after Grey gave his briefing, Angela and Nyla both started talking about Tim’s “girlfriend” the others overheard and suddenly everyone knew about Tim’s private life. 

“Tim has a girlfriend?” Lucy questioned, while walking over the group and grinning. “That’s what he claims, when he was paying me back a photo slipped out of his wallet and when i asked who it was he said it was his girlfriend, but i don't know who would torture themselves like that” she explained, Nolan had his eyebrows raised “come on guys, Tim can’t be that bad” Nolan continued “he probably just doesn't like us” he smiled making the others laugh. 

“Okay! Are you guys ready to stop being a bunch of highschoolers and gossiping about my love life so we can, I don't know, do our job?” Tim dead panned, they all quietly snickered, and some started getting ready to head out.

Tim heard the faint call of his name, and fast feet, “Tim! you forgot your lunch!” you spoke quickly while softly jogging towards him. “That’s what i forgot, thank you baby” Tim mentally smacked himself for forgetting the meal you had prepared for him the night before. You smiled at him, rushing as you had to get back to the campus as you had a final in 45 minutes.

Everyone looked slightly gobsmacked, realizing that Tim was in fact not lying about having a girlfriend, Angela came up to the love sick couple, “so you’re the pretty lady Tim keeps in his wallet” she spoke with playfulness, “you must be Angela! Tim talks about you all the time, im (Y/N)” you introduced yourself with a big smile. Tim smiled at you with all the love in the world, looking at you while you introduced yourself to his friends and colleagues. 

“As much as i would absolutely love talking to you guys more, i have a really important test i have to go take” you explained with haste, everyone was extremely understanding and wished you good lucks, “One last thing, Tim, before you come home will you please pick up milk from the store? I used it all this morning” everyone looked at Tim awaiting his response “Yes ma’am” he complied, you kissed his cheek and gave everyone a last goodbye before leaving.

“Man she has you utterly whipped” Aaron spoke, while shaking his head, “yeah, you are so done for sir” Celina giggled. Tim looked at both of them with a stern face immediately making them shut up and get back to doing whatever they were doing. 

“I'm glad you found someone Tim, you deserve a good person” Lucy quietly mentioned, Tim gave a silent nod of acknowledgement letting Lucy know that what she said meant a lot to him as she left and continued on with her duties.

Tim carried on with his day, doing paperwork, and counting the minutes until he came home to you.

Once he got off of work, he made sure he picked up milk and even got you you're favorite snack, as soon as he got home you two made dinner together and sat at the kitchen table, you told him how you’re very sure you passed your final with flying colors, and he told you about the mountains of paperwork that made him wish he was in bed watching a stupid reality show with you instead. 

When it was time for bed you and Tim continued to talk about random thoughts, and your futures together before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford x you #tim bradford x younger!reader #reader insert

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {6} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: Gossiping drivers, alcohol and Charlotte. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Three weeks ago there had been an anonymous complaint raised about your presence in the paddock when you were nothing more than a spectator. Apparently an emotional support animal wasn’t an acceptable reason to travel with Charles and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who laid the complaint.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Charles asked as you placed a plate of food in front of him. 

“I’m getting paid to do what I would normally do anyway,” you pointed out once again. “And dad said I needed to get a job.”

You had been hired by Ferrari to work in the hospitality building; running food orders, making drinks, tidying the driver’s rooms. Okay, maybe the job was more than you would normally do, but not by much. At least you were kept busy and boredom no longer plagued you. 

“I didn’t realise you needed the money,” he murmured as he stabbed a seasoned chicken breast with his fork. His credit card in your handbag was yours to use however you wanted, he had assured you of that time and time again, and it was the only reason his apartment was furnished so brightly. You could never have done that on the measly savings in your bank account. 

“I don’t, but I’m not going back to Monaco on my own.” That was the consequence if you didn’t become an employee, at least while the Covid restrictions were in place. 

“Hmm, god knows what trouble you would get up to there on your own,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something had been off about him all morning, but you knew he would talk about it when he was ready so you let it drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you said with a wink as you leaned closer and laid a napkin on his lap. “I believe you called me a good girl just last night.”

You left the dining area before he could respond and met Sebastian at the beverage station. He was another of the drivers you had befriended, though much like he was to Charles, it was more in a father-figure role. The German was a gentle soul and you always had time for him, even when he called you out for the feelings you thought you were able to conceal in public.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” he commented as you made his coffee - double shot espresso with a dollop of froth, no sugar. 

“You obviously need this coffee to wake you up, Bassy, you are clearly dreaming,” you said as you placed it in front of him and showed your bare arms. “I have no sleeves.”

Sebastian smiled as he lifted the cup to his lips, the words entertaining him but not fooling him. “There is a little get together tonight with some of the other drivers. I think everyone is feeling a little isolated from society right now and could do with socialising. You should come.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug because you weren’t sure if Charles would be one of those other drivers, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you. “Maybe, it depends how busy I am picking up your dirty laundry.”

“My wife trained me well, maybe you are thinking of the wrong room.” He placed the empty mug down and departed with a wink. 

The rest of the day passed quickly and you made yourself comfortable in Charles’ room while you waited for him to finish his media duties. It wasn’t unexpected that he took longer since it was the first of the two Italian GPs, he had given you warning that the team’s homerace would be more hectic. Pierre was the first to invite himself in, lounging on the other seat wanting to know the gossip around the paddock. 

“Don’t lie, I know the best gossip comes from the kitchens,” he begged when you said there was nothing of interest. 

“What can I say? Everyone is tight lipped after Nora and Damien caught covid.”

That had been the hottest gossip of the week because Nora was from Renault and Damien from Racing Point. Both teams were still arguing over who gave it to who and there were talks of suspension because they were sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of isolating. 

“Ah bon,” he huffed. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to ask Charles what the plan is,” you answered as you checked your phone again to see no messages and the afternoon was dragging. “What is taking him so long?”

“You’re waiting here for him?” Pierre frowned as he sat up a little straighter. “He was heading back to the hotel after he finished, he had to go pick up Charlotte from the airport.”

You tried to police your face but from the pity on Pierre’s it was clear you failed to hide the disappointment, shock and betrayal. Charles had been quieter in the last few days but everything you asked what was wrong he said nothing and then distracted you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew and that’s why you were still hiding out here.” He stood up and reached into the pocket of his Toro Rosso jacket to grab his car keys. “Wanna catch a ride with me?”

You didn’t really want to go back to the hotel room you had been sharing with Charles but had no idea where else you could go. You definitely needed to change out of the Ferrari uniform you wore but you didn’t want to see Charlotte if you could help it. Why was she even here?

“I don’t know, but from his mood I’m guessing Charles didn’t invite her.”

You didn’t realise you had asked that aloud and you concentrated on your shoes as you stood up and followed him out to the carpark. You almost asked him to turn around and take you back to the paddock but there would probably be more gossip spread if you slept in Charles’ driver’s room instead of the hotel.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out of Pierre’s car. 

“No problem. Text me if you want a ride to the party.”

You weren’t exactly in the mood to party but the idea of liquor was growing on you so you said maybe and departed. Walking into the hotel, you passed the designer stores that lined the first two floors and felt the black credit card calling, but it was probably the devil whispering in your ear. And not for the first time you listened. 

Charles checked his phone as he received another notification from his bank. One part of him was pleased to know you were at least near the hotel since the charges were to the shops below, but a larger part was sick knowing you were lashing out because of the message he had left in your room down the hall. 

The shower turned off as his phone vibrated again and a bitter laugh bubbled at the $50k debit he saw for Prada before Charlotte appeared from the bathroom. There was a time before you showed up back in his life where he found her beautiful but now he could only imagine your face when he held her. He really had to do something about this because no matter how disinterested or rude he was, she ignored it to remain in his life. Looking away as she reached the bed, he returned his focus to his phone and sent a message to the person he actually wanted to be with.

The hotel room was silent when you finally built up the courage to leave the shops and take the elevator to the higher floors. The housekeepers had swept through and placed everything back where it belonged except for one square sheet of hotel-embossed paper.

Charlotte is here so I will be staying with her for the week. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. Love, Charles x

You sneered at the paper as your phone vibrated. “Love, my ass.”

Charles: Ma biche, if you are trying to bankrupt me you are going to have to do better than that. 

You: I just want to look good for the party tonight. Never know who I might take back to my room.

You slammed the stack of receipts down beside the note and went to see that his bags were gone from the bedroom. Your lip curled back in disgust and you tore the protective sheath off the little black dress you had purchased with his money. If he was going to be a coward then he would suffer the consequences of it. You were sick of waiting for them to break up, maybe their delusions for a perfect image actually made them perfect for each other.

Charles slammed his phone onto the bedside drawer and pushed Charlotte’s advancing hands away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled amongst the pillows and crossed her arms. “You’re never in the mood anymore.”

“Whatever, just get dressed,” Charles ordered as he kicked his suitcase over before unzipping it and grabbing a clean set of clothes. “We’re going out.”

“I just got here.”

“So? It’s a party.” He didn’t even glance her way as he pulled his Ferrari shirt over his head and replaced it with a plain white t-shirt before moving onto his jeans. 

“Will Y/N be there?”

Charles’ foot caught in the legging and he nearly tipped over. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Charlotte knew him well enough to know when he was lying, or telling half truths - those were almost as common as breathing to him lately. 

–

Since social gatherings were frowned upon, the group had met in a large field that the motorhomes parked in near the Monza track. A roughly cut metal oil drum glowed with a fire and golden embers floated off into the evening light as you navigated your way in new heels to the circle of couches around it. 

“I think I overdressed,” you joked to Pierre as a dozen pairs of eyes flickered your way. There was no denying that you looked amazing, but you were more suited for the red carpet than a backyard bonfire. You should have gone with jeans and a shirt like Pierre wore when he picked you up.

“I think you look beautiful,” Max said with a smile as he shifted on his seat to make space for you. “You can sit here.”

You returned the smile and carefully stepped over the legs outstretched to warm by the fire. One pair of eyes burned into you but you pointedly ignored him as he sat opposite the flames with Charlotte on his lap. You stood in front of Max and put your hands on your hips as you cocked an eyebrow at the narrow space between him and the armrest. 

“I have caught you checking out my ass enough times, Verstappen, you know it’s not going to fit there,” you said with a smirk. 

An annoyed humph came from beyond the flames and Charles started to push Charlotte to her feet. “I’ll get you a seat.”

“She can sit here,” Max reiterated as he spread his legs back to get comfortable in his chair and patted his thigh.

“Mate…”

“Such a gentleman.” You turned on your heel, meeting the furious Monegasque whose eyes reflected the fire that was burning within him too. You held his steely gaze as you lowered yourself down onto Max’s lap, feeling the form fitting dress that barely covered your thighs ride even higher. 

“I didn’t think so many of you guys would actually be here,” you said as you draped an arm over Max’s shoulder to help balance on your perch. His arm curled around your back so his hand rested lazily on your hip and his eyes darted to Charles, the blue hue almost screaming at him, ‘what a fool’. 

“I only came for you,” Max admitted as he tore his eyes away to look at you. Those eyes narrowed and he brushed he cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re wearing makeup. Why?”

You frowned, wondering if maybe the makeup artist had done a terrible job and Max shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he assured you as he saw the worry-lines crease your forehead. “You always look beautiful, but you don’t need makeup, schat.”

 You didn’t correct him on the endearment and he seemed to take it as a victory as his smile grew wider. Maybe you would have reminded him of the rules on friendship before the interruption, or maybe you would have just tucked the wayward strand of dirty blonde hair back where it had fallen over his face. 

“I’m glad you made it,” Seb said, breaking the tension as he leaned over a cooler and offered a bottle of Jagermeister. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled as you cracked the cap off. “You could have given me a little more information about this ‘party’.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Kimi muttered to himself as he sipped vodka from a teacup. The white china and blue glaze depicted an ancient scene and you stared at it as you took a swig straight from the bottle. Disgust screwed up your face at the taste before shivering, making both of the older men laugh. 

“Ugh, I’ll take the rocket fuel please.” You didn’t give Kimi a chance to pull away as you stole the teacup and handed him the dark green bottle instead, though you were sure with those driver reflexes he could have moved if he wanted to. “That’s better,” you sighed as you tasted the drink to find it was a vodka lemonade mix. “I thought you would drink this stuff straight.”

“I’m not Russian,” he said as he jutted his chin across to Daniil who was in fact drinking pure vodka with Daniel, though the latter was coughing thanks to it. Reaching into the cooler, glass and ceramic clattered before he settled back into his foldout lawn chair with another china teacup that you didn’t bother to question.

Conversations between the drivers flowed, voices cresting and receding with the topics they were passionate about. Your stomach sloshed with alcohol and your body relaxed against Max’s, his smile growing when you rested your cheek on his head as you listened to him talk about the first thing he would do when the restrictions were lifted. It was to go to his friend’s concert, Martin Garrix to be specific.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed. “Not this again!”

You lifted your head and peered across the circle to where George and Alex were arguing over the suggested game of Truth or Dare.

“What are you? Prepubescent teenagers?” you teased as Alex took a pro-stance on playing. 

“No, Lando only looks it,” George joked.

“Hey!” The young McLaren driver spluttered with an indignant laugh. “Rude.”

“Leave little Lando alone. He got his first pube just last week,” Daniel chimed in before adding, “I’ll play. Max?”

Max shrugged with a quiet, “Sure.”

Alex grinned wider and elbowed George. “See, it’s fun.”

The younger half of the drivers around the circle started the game, daring each other to do silly little things that their PR teams would frown at or confiding the secrets they answered for a truth. Your ribs hurt from laughing until Daniel called your name. 

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you replied just so you didn’t have to get up from your cosy spot on Max’s lap. 

“Have you kissed a driver here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed on you through the flames and you grinned at Daniel as you combed your fingers into the short hair at Max’s nape. “Yes.”

“Who?” Daniel looked at Max, Pierre and Charles before returning to Max.

Your head tipped back with a laugh. “That’s not how the game works, Danny. It’s not your turn anymore. It’s mine. Max?”

“Hmm, yes?” he hummed as he looked into your eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

He debated the option for a moment before exhaling. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take me out.”

“You didn’t need a game for that,” he chuckled. “When?”

“Breakfast, tomorrow.” You leaned in and brushed your lips over his cheeks that flushed pink an instant after you whispered in his ear. “We could even make it breakfast in bed.”

You hadn’t noticed Charles had left his seat until you heard his voice beside you, plonking himself down on the cooler while he sparked up a pointless conversation with Seb. 

“Charles, truth or dare?” Max asked, noticing how still your body went and the stiffening of your spine. 

Charles turned slowly, his eyes drifting over the space where your body met Max’s and a sneer tugged at his lips. “I don’t play childish games.”

“Just the adult kind, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said with that innocent smile that had fooled you. 

“Of course you don’t.” Max turned his attention to the fire pit and the woman sitting on her own, attempting to hold an air of carefree relaxation despite her gaze always returning to you with a scowl. “Charlotte, truth or dare?”

“Max.” You jumped at the sharp bite to Charles’ reprimand but Max didn’t even glance his way as he waited for the woman to choose.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to finish Kyvat’s drink.”

Pierre’s teammate grinned as he offered the tumbler that was half full of vodka. To give her credit, she only winced with the first swallow but she downed the spirit and cocked an eyebrow that challenged Max, is that all you have for me?

A cruel smile tipped up and she licked the drop of alcohol that clung to her lips, the burn of the vodka quickly hitting her veins and travelling to her head. “My turn.”

Charles abandoned his conversation when Charlotte called your name and the slight shake of his head warned you not to answer. 

But he had pissed you off.

“Truth.”

The choice echoed around the circle as everyone fell silent. Pressure brewed like a lightning storm approaching and everyone felt the charged atmosphere.

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, staring you dead in the eye as she found the courage she had been missing for months. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Max’s fingers stopped drawing abstract circles on your hip and Charles burst to his feet. “Charlotte!”

“What? It’s just a game, Cha,” she replied with a bland look of boredom. 

“It’s not appropria-”

“3 years,” you cut him off, your eyes never leaving hers. If she wanted the truth then she could have it. “The 8th of August 2017, if you want to count the precise days.”

“What?” Confused murmurs broke around the fire.

“Oh, shit,” Pierre laughed as he looked closer at you then to his friend who had frozen still. “She’s that chick you hooked up with at Jimmyz?”

Charles dragged a hand down his face but ended it with a nod before turning to his girlfriend. “It was before us, mon amour.” 

The way he said it made it appear it was only before they got together, ever the liar, and even you rolled your eyes.

“So you two…and your parents…” Kimi whistled before keeping his mouth busy with a drink. He was quietly enjoying the brimming heat too much for someone nicknamed the Iceman.

“My father was out getting a haircut-“

“-at my mother’s salon-“

“-when we met. I guess they kept in contact after we left.”

Charles turned his attention to Charlotte but she was already storming her way across the field. With a sigh, he made his way after her and you wondered if it was finally the day that you had been holding out for, the one where she would dump him. 

“She should have asked when you last fucked him.” The words were a whisper in your ear as everyone else returned to their own conversations, the game clearly over, but you knew those conversations were about you. Max sensed your discomfort, though even a blind man would have been able to see it. “Want to get out of here?”

“You still want to go somewhere with me?” It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t thrown you off his lap.

“Everyone has a history,” Max said with a shrug. “I don’t care about your past…just your future.”

You left without a goodbye under the watchful eye of Seb but you didn’t miss the elbow George gave Alex, muttering sarcastically, “Oh yeah, let’s play truth or dare, he said, it will be fun, he said.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” The angry whisper of a reply followed your departure and it seemed Alex was the only one too innocent to see what had been in front of them all along. 

Charles' car was already missing from the makeshift parking lot and you slipped into the passenger seat of Max’s Aston Martin before he closed the door for you. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, can we just drive? I feel like a fucking idiot,” you laughed bitterly. All the memories made with Charles seemed to crumble like sandcastles with the tide as you remembered how he had chased after her. He always did, and it seemed he always would. Actions screamed louder than words. “He’s really not who I thought he was.”

“I’ve known Charles most of his life and I don’t think he even knows who he is,” Max said as he laced his fingers with yours and headed to the city. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I have a full mini bar that is getting billed to Charles. Want to help me empty it?”

Max shared a conspiratorial grin as he headed to the hotel and when you walked past Charles’ room down the hall, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. 

“What are you doing?” Max asked with a laugh as you hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door. You closed the door and leant against it, Max’s eyes following the curve of the Chanel dress, down the length of your legs to the Prada shoes and back up to the Bvlgari diamond necklace that accentuated the valley of your breasts.

“Making sure this party doesn’t get crashed.” 

—

It was a miracle there had been no complaint made as you turned the stereo up and pretended you knew how to mix drinks. 

“Max!” You fell into a fit of laughter as he poured four of the miniature gin bottles into the cocktail shaker, adding it to the three bottles of vodka you had put in. “That is pure alcohol.” 

He shook the container and poured the clear liquid into two glasses, spilling some as he reached the same level of drunkenness as you. “No, it’s just water. Here, taste it.” He tipped his glass back, his face pinching before he blew out a burst of burning air from his throat and spluttered a cough. “Mhmm, good water that.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you shouted over the pounding in your head, but you knocked the drink back anyway. 

“You’re already drunk,” he countered, dropping into the couch and pulling you down with him. Empty bottles littered the coffee table and the dining table, the expensive mini bar almost empty. “I’m just keeping you that way.”

You settled on his lap and fingered the dirty blonde hair that was longest at the top of his head. “Is that so you can have your way with me?”

His eyes danced over your body, lingering on your thighs as your dress barely covered them. “No, schat,” he said with a small shake of his head as he cupped your face. “When I have you I want you to know that you chose me, clear headed and completely sober. Even if I really just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

You drew your lip between your teeth at the thought and his blue eyes darkened with envy. “We could just kiss?” you suggested as you shifted to straddle his hips.

“I don’t think it would be that easy to just stop there.”

“Fine.” Your hands stroked the column of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle that tensed under your touch before you traced his collarbones with your thumbs. “Truth or dare?”

He inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, watching intently as you popped the first button on his shirt and opened the collar wider. He didn't appear to breathe as you kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He exhaled, knowing what you wanted to hear, “Dare.”

Your teeth grazed his racing pulse and he shuddered beneath you before you pulled back. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Perhaps it took having the flame of Charles extinguished for you to feel the spark of Max because this time when he pulled you close and captured you with a kiss you felt that spark ignite. 

—

You looked around the parking lot seeing all the other mothers dropping their children off for the first day of school. They all kissed their kids on the cheeks after a tight hug and said their goodbyes, complete with teary I love you’s. Confused, you frowned at the large hand that gripped your school bag and followed the arm up to your father. 

“Daddy, why isn’t my mummy here?”

He had known the question was coming, he just didn’t think it would be from his five year old. He thought he had more time to prepare as he dropped to one knee and held your hands. “Your mother was sick and she needed to leave so she could get better.”

“But she never came back.”

“Sometimes, that’s what’s for the best.” He kissed your forehead and draped your backpack over your shoulders, the weight more than just the lunchbox and books it carried. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I will always be here for you, pumpkin.”

You woke in a cold sweat and felt the haunting thought the dream had inspired linger in your brain as you slipped out of the sheets. Beside you, Max slept soundly with one hand buried under a pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if he was searching for you. 

You didn’t regret sleeping with Max, though part of you felt he surely would, and you watched his back rise and fall a few times as you dressed. You were busy trying to write a note, tearing off each piece that failed to convey what you wanted to say and balling it up, that you didn’t hear Max’s footsteps. You jumped in surprise as his hands came to rest on your hips and his lips teased the same sweet spot beneath your ear that he had found last night. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he saw your bags by the door and he saw the latest attempt of a note. Max, thank you for last night. How about a raincheck on our-

“I think it's time to go home,” you admitted as you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck. “Because the next time we do this, I want you to know that I chose you, clear headed and completely sober.”

He chuckled, surprised you could remember what he said. Then his own hungover haze lifted and he realised what else you said. “Next time?”

“I still want you to take me to breakfast,” you assured him with a smile. “How about you call me when you’re back in Monaco?”

“It’s a date.” He tipped your head back and kissed you with the same passion that left your toes curling and your body warmed with the memory of how that kiss had led to much more last night. But Max was sober and more in control of himself as he reluctantly broke away first.  “Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No, thank you, I’m going to drive back. Take a bit of time to myself and figure my shit out.”

Max frowned. “You don’t have a car.”

“Yet,” you said with a wink. “But if the offer for a ride is still on the table…there is somewhere you can drop me off.”

—

Charles woke to a call from his bank and he swallowed deeply as he listened to the request to release $250k to a dealership. There was only one reason you would buy a car and the thought left him feeling empty as the bed he woke up alone in. It was a surprise there was no noise complaint after the argument he had with Charlotte, the one where he snapped and broke things off. She had left in a rage and he didn’t have the decency to ask where she went. 

He had gone to your room, his feet carrying him light on a breeze as he finally had what he wanted. But then he had seen the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and heard your laughter sneak through the panel of wood that separated him from where he should have been. 

Sitting up in bed, he wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks overnight. 

“Yes, allow the payment to proceed,” he muttered, though the sound of his voice was no longer one he recognised. 

Charles: Drive safe, ma biche x You: I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person.  Charles: I guess I deserved that.

Click here for the final chapter.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair. 

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life. 

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?” 

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?” 

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room. 

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away. 

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth. 

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side. 

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class. 

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed. 

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora. 

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her. 

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.” 

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride. 

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it. 

Now was not the time to slack. 

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior. 

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed. 

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought. 

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date. 

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture. 

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart. 

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.  

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.” 

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over. 

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop. 

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin. 

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?” 

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.” 

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.  

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air. 

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again. 

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills. 

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running. 

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.” 

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. 

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.” 

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.  

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over. 

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin. 

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology. 

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?” 

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.” 

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.   

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?” 

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.” 

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve. 

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim. 

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens. 

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger. 

It was raw shame. 

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight. 

--

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